


Grace

by SeeWell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: #I'mAMonsterHarry, #ICan'tBelieveIDidThis, #PlotWereDeclared, #SorryGuys, #ThisStartedWithNoPlotThenPlotHappened, Abuse, Abusive Alastair, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst and Porn, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Awesome Bobby, BAMF Castiel, Bisexual Dean, Blindfolds, Canon-Typical Violence, Cock & Ball Torture, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Crowley Being an Asshole, Crowley is a Little Shit, Dean Whump, Dean Winchester Whump, Doctor Castiel, Drunk John, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Healing, Human Castiel, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Lawyer Sam, M/M, Mean Naomi, Mechanic Dean, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Touching, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn Watching, Porn With Plot, Pretending to Be Gay, Protective Castiel, Protective Sam Winchester, Psychological Torture, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Sick Dean Winchester, Soldier Castiel, Sub Dean, Suicide, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 39
Words: 85,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9290093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeWell/pseuds/SeeWell
Summary: Voices echoed down the hall behind them. The dom broke into a run and Dean clung to him. He kicked the front door open and they burst outside into the cool night air.“Which vehicle is yours?” he asked.“Black one,” said Dean. He pointed to the black Chevy Impala parked nearby.“Keys?”Dean fumbled through the pile of clothes in his lap and retrieved his keys. The dom set him down gently and Dean clutched his belongings to his chest. He opened the door for Dean, then hurried to the driver’s side and got behind the wheel. Dean didn’t protest.Crowley was already to the front door of the building, flanked by Alastair and God only knew whom else.The impala roared to life and the dom threw it into reverse and hit the gas. They sped backwards out of the driveway until they hit the main road. The dom threw the car into drive without stopping.They made it. Dean twisted around in his seat and watched the roof of that terrible place fade away behind the trees. He turned back around and slumped down into his seat. “I don’t even know your name,” he said.“Castiel,” he answered. “Cas for short.”Dean nodded. “Thanks, Cas. I owe you.”





	1. Gay for Pay

Dean sat on the edge of the bed with his hands in his lap. The man behind the camera clicked something and a red light blinked to life. 

“Shy?” asked the man. His black suit and English accent already added to his Bond-villain demeanor; the smirk really cinched the whole ensemble. 

“Cold,” answered Dean. 

“Shy plays better for the camera,” said the man. “But I can also work with stubborn denial.” There was that smirk again. “Introduce yourself.” 

“Dean Winch—do you need my last name?” 

The man rolled his eyes. “No. And you’ve ruined the take.” He took a breath. “Introduce yourself.” 

“Dean.” 

“Good boy. I’m Crowley. Your dom will be in shortly. You will call him ‘Sir’ or ‘Master.’” 

“Ok.” Dean shifted on the bed. He wanted to move his hands—make a point and prove he wasn’t afraid—but that would probably just earn more snide comments from Crowley. He didn’t like being the only one naked. Then again, he wasn’t sure how much better it would be once the other naked guy joined them. 

 _Will he be naked?_ Dean wondered. _Please be naked. Or don’t. Maybe he won’t show up._  

It wasn’t too late to run. He hadn’t signed a contract or anything. The money was still in a bag in the corner of the room. He could bail at any time.

“Why are you here?” asked Crowley. He nodded to the camera.

Dean wasn’t sure where to look. He settled on Crowley, who rolled his eyes. “I need the money,” he answered.

“Is this your first time doing porn?”

“Yeah.” Dean glanced at the camera. “I mean—I’ve been filmed before but—” 

“Shut up.” Crowley held a marker up to the lens. “I’ll cut that out later. Don’t elaborate.”

Dean sighed. He could leave; drive home as fast as possible, take a long hot shower and forget this ever happened.

“Are you gay?” 

“No,” answered Dean. 

_Then what the fuck are you doing here?_

“Then what brought you here?” asked Crowley. 

“Money,” answered Dean.

Crowley held another marker up to the lens. “Is it even remotely possible for you to look less like an angry mountain gorilla and more like a virginal twink?” he asked. “I understand your IQ may only extend to that of a mountain gorilla, but surely you can follow basic instructions.”

Dean glared. “What’s a twink?” 

“Bloody hell,” muttered Crowley. “Fine. Never mind.” He paused again. “Why do you need the money?” 

“Uh—” began Dean. “It’s—that’s personal.” 

“Girlfriend?” asked Crowley.

“No,” answered Dean.

“Just say it’s for your girlfriend.” 

“It’s for my girlfriend.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Ever sucked a cock before, Dean?”

“No.” 

“Ever thought about sucking a cock before?” 

Dean glanced between Crowley and the camera. “Yes.”

“Tell me about that.” 

“It—it was a long time ago,” stammered Dean.

“Care to elaborate?” 

“I got curious back in high school,” answered Dean. “It wasn’t a big deal.” 

_Because Dad caught you. Because you after that you learned how to be a real man._

“Man of few words,” muttered Crowley. “That’s fine. You won’t need to do much talking today. Ever thought about having a cock in your ass?”

“I guess,” answered Dean.

“Any idea what you’re in for?”

“I googled some stuff.” Dean spent the entire week leading up to today scouring the internet for advice. He’d taken seven showers in the past three days and hadn’t eaten for two days. He’d told himself he was just being thorough—that it wasn’t because he’d lost his appetite or because he felt dirty after hanging up the phone to confirm the meeting. He told himself it was just sex. Men liked sex. Sex wasn’t a big deal. 

Crowley pulled a sheet of paper from the desk behind him. “Do you know what makes King of Hell such a special production company?” 

“Your warm and fuzzy personality?” 

Crowley grinned as he looked down. “Authenticity,” he said. “Everything is consensual, of course. Men like you come in for whatever reason—overcompensating for their nerves with masculine bravado—but they don’t leave until all parties have been thoroughly satisfied.”

“Yeah, you need a money shot,” said Dean. “You said that in the email.” He found these guys on Craigslist. The ad was vague, but promised a shitload of money for two hours worth of work. Dean emailed them, called them, then showed up in person. Crowley even showed him the cash before Dean took his clothes off. It wasn’t a high-class set up by any means, but it was about what he expected from a craigslist “call for adult actors.” He probably should have told someone where he was in case things went south—but then someone would know he was here doing this. 

“No fake orgasms,” continued Crowley. “Our audience likes to know what you’re feeling is real.” 

“Ok,” said Dean. 

“Your safe word for this dom is ‘grace.’ Use it wisely. If things are not going well, I’ll switch out for someone I think will be more successful.”

Dean nodded. He felt a little nauseous and closed his eyes for a moment. 

“You read my mind,” said Crowley. He crossed the room and tossed Dean a piece of fabric. “Tie that tight over your eyes and no peeking.” 

Dean bit his lip, but did as he was told. “Like this?” Suddenly something soft hit him in the face. “What the hell?” he shouted. He fumbled with what felt suspiciously like a pillow and threw it away from him.

“Just making sure you can’t see.” 

“Son of a bitch,” muttered Dean. He heard the door open. He heard Crowley return to his position by the camera and heard another set of footsteps approach the bed.

 _It’s not too late. Fuck this and go home. No one has to know you were here. You can find the money somewhere else._

“Hello, Dean,” said a deep, gravely voice. 

A firm, calloused hand ran through his hair. 

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” asked the man—Master. 

“No,” breathed Dean. 

Crowley coughed. 

“No, sir,” corrected Dean. He could feel his body shaking, but he told himself he was just playing along. Crowley told him to be a virginal twig or twing or something. He was acting. He wasn’t scared. 

Master thumbed over Dean’s lips. “Open your mouth,” he said. 

Dean obeyed.

Master nudged his leg between Dean’s knees, forcing his legs open. “Hands behind your back,” he said. 

Again, he obeyed. 

 _Run. It’s not worth it. Sell a kidney. Sell sperm to a rich lady. Learn to juggle and join a circus._

Something warm and wet touched Dean’s lips and he jumped. Master ran his fingers through Dean’s hair again, and pulled him back. A kiss. The dom was kissing him. He trailed a line of kisses to Dean’s ear.

“Are you all right?” whispered the dom. 

Dean leaned his face away from Crowley and the camera. “Yeah,” he answered. “Sorry. Nerves.”

“Let me know when you feel uncomfortable,” he whispered. He nibbled a Dean’s neck.

“Safe word is grace, right?” asked Dean. 

“Right.” Master kissed Dean again and breathed against his lips. “I promise, I won’t hurt you.” He stood up, fingers once again entangled in Dean’s hair. When he spoke again, he’d resumed normal volume. “Open wide,” he said.

Dean did as he was told and this time he was about 90% sure the thing he tasted was a dick. A quick thrust from the dom confirmed his suspicions. Master was slow at first, keeping his movements steady and shallow. One had had a vice-like grip on Dean’s hair while the other caressed his cheek.

Considering the many awful ways this decision could come back to destroy him, Dean was surprisingly relaxed. 

_Suck him off. Then you get off. Then you go home. It’s not that bad. Just an hour and a half more to go._

Suddenly, Crowley snapped something. “Cut,” he said. 

Master pulled away from Dean. “What could possibly be the problem? You’ve been rolling for under a minute.”

“His sad little deflated cock is the problem,” said Crowley. “No one wants to see that.” 

“Give him some time,” said the dom. “He’s nervous.” 

“Sorry,” said Dean, sensing his paycheck might be on the line. “I can get hard.” He gripped his dick in his hand and gave it his best shot. 

 _They’re watching you. Get hard. Get off. Get paid. Get out. Get the money to Sam._  

Dean felt nauseous again. If his little brother had any idea where this money was coming from he’d probably never speak to Dean again.

_If dad knew—_

If John Winchester knew he’d make sure Dean never saw Sam again.

“This is pathetic,” said Crowley. 

“Let me try,” said the dom. “Dean, lie on your back.” 

“What are you going to do?” asked Crowley.

“This is a lot to take in,” said Master. “We need to ease him into it.”

“I don’t want to waste your time,” said Dean. “I can do this.”

“And yet here you are wasting my time,” said Crowley. He sighed. “Castiel, give us a moment, will you?”

“No. We can figure—who are you calling?” asked Master. 

Crowley must have picked up the phone. He shushed the dom. “Send in Naomi. She has the edging equipment. Tell her we need Alastair.” 

“This isn’t an edging scene,” said Master. 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” said Crowley. “Naomi knows what she’s doing. Now get out.”

Master ran his fingers through Dean’s hair again. It was pleasant, but it didn’t stop Dean from trembling. 

“I can do this,” mumbled Dean. 

Master untied Dean’s blindfold and knelt down between his knees. He placed his hands on Dean’s thigh and rubbed small circles into the muscles with his thumbs. Master was also naked. He had dark, messy hair and a lean runner’s body. His eyes were icy blue and beautiful. He was beautiful.

“This line of work isn’t for everyone,” said Master. “There is no shame in leaving if you are uncomfortable.” 

“No,” said Dean. “I can do it.”

“For God’s sake,” said Crowley, “get up. I should have paired him with Alastair in the first place.”

“Don’t put him with Alastair. He’s too rough,” said the dom.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “If I had a nickel for every time you fell for some doe-eyed little virgin I could quit peddling smut and retire to Malibu.”

“I told you we shouldn’t work with amateurs,” said Master. “It’s too risky.”

Crowley muttered something that sounded like “savior complex” and put his phone in his pocket. “New rule,” he said, “every time you hold up a scene to have a little heart-to-heart with the actors, I’m taking a nickel from your paycheck.” 

“That’s not fair,” said Dean.

“Ignore him,” said the dom. “He has to be petty to stay alive; the same way a shark must keep swimming.”

The door opened. A woman entered carrying a large duffle bag. A tall man with a scruffy beard followed her.

“The cavalry has arrived,” said Crowley. “Castiel, leave.”

“No I—”

“You want to cost this young man his money?” asked Crowley. “He needs someone more forceful.” 

“Then why partner him with me in the first place?” asked Master.

“I thought he was in the closet,” snapped Crowley. “You’re better with closet cases. I was wrong.” He put his hands together in mock prayer. “Heaven forgive me for my transgressions.”

Master turned back to Dean. He looked scared. “You can still say no.”

“Leave now, or your fired,” said Crowley.

“Go,” said Dean. “I’ve got this.” He tried to force a smile. 

Master searched his eyes.

“How about this,” said Crowley, “you can stay and slow down production and make sure we don’t hurt this precious boy and I’ll just cut his pay in half and you won’t get paid at all for today.”

“No,” said Dean quickly. He shoved the dom away. “Leave. I know what I’m doing.” 

Master got to his feet and stepped back.

“Go,” said Dean. No contract. No witnesses. Of course these guys could cut his pay. He wasn’t exactly a member of the amateur porn worker’s union.

Master bit his tongue. He turned and jabbed a finger at new man in the room and whispered something. 

The man ignored him. Master left, slamming the door behind him.

“Lock it,” said Crowley. He turned back to Dean. “Sorry about all that, darling. You weren’t what I expected. Normally a two hour shoot only takes two hours.”

Dean glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s only been 45 minutes,” he said. 

“And of those 45, I only have three usable minutes and those are all your bumbling interview.”

_Shit._

“So how much longer?” asked Dean. 

Crowley glanced at his watch. “Two hours. Maybe less. Don’t worry. Alastair is very good.”

The new man, presumably Alastair approached Dean. “Do you want this done fast or do you want to enjoy it?” he asked. 

“How fast is fast?” answered Dean.

“Two hours. Maybe less.” The man echoed Crowley.

“What if I want to enjoy it?” asked Dean.

“No guarantee that you will.” 

Dean took a deep breath. “Fast,” he said.

“Good. I’m your new dom. Call me sir. You’re allowed to talk, but you must show me respect or you’ll be punished. Understand?”

“Yeah,” answered Dean.

Alastair grabbed him by his hair, flipped him onto his stomach and slammed his face down into the mattress. He slapped Dean’s ass so hard he was sure it left a welt.

“Son of a bitch,” shouted Dean. “Yes, sir. Fuck.”

Alastair hit him again, harder. 

“God dammit,” said Dean. “What did I—”

Alastair hit him again. 

Dean bit his tongue. After a moment of silence, Alastair pulled Dean’s face out of the mattress.

“Do you know what you did wrong?” he asked. 

“Yes—sir,” muttered Dean.

“You are worthless. Understand?”

“Yes sir.” 

“You are mine.” 

“Yes sir.”


	2. Safe Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is just...bleh...I'm sorry fandom

Alastair grabbed the blindfold and tied it back over Dean’s eyes. It was too tight and his dick was still limp and now his ass hurt. He focused on the wad of cash waiting for him in the corner. Two hours. Two more hours. 

Alastair grabbed Dean’s wrists. “Rope,” he said. He bound Dean’s arms behind his back, which was probably for the best. Dean wasn’t sure he could resist the urge to hit this guy in the face the way the session was going.

He rolled Dean onto his back. “Crowley, make a note to cut this part and delete it. He might scream. Naomi, do your stuff.”

Someone grabbed his dick and started jerking him off. Dean assumed it was Naomi but surprise, surprise; it wasn’t any easier to get it up with her. He felt her squirt what he hoped was lube onto his dick. 

_Remember Lisa. She used to do this. Lisa was great—and flexible. Think about Lisa._

Something wrapped around his balls and the base of his cock. Dean flinched.

“Close enough,” said Naomi. “I’ll tie him off here. You’re responsible for the rest. He won’t come until you’re ready.”

Something rough squeezed around the base of his dick. “What are you—” 

Alastair was on him before he could finish the sentence. He yanked hard on Dean’s hair and pinched one of Dean’s nipples. He twisted so hard Dean was afraid it would tear. 

“Stop,” said Dean. 

Alastair twisted harder.

The ties around his dick tightened. He tried to wriggle free but he was lying on his arms. Dean kicked against the bed to push himself away. 

Alastair released his nipple and pushed him back onto his stomach. Dean felt a knee settle in the middle of his back. His cock was hard now, but it hurt. 

“Bar,” said Alastair.

“Stop,” panted Dean. “I don’t want to do this.”

He couldn’t tell how many hands were on him now, but they managed to hold him down and separate his legs.

“Grace,” shouted Dean. “Grace—please. I can’t.”

Alastair slapped his ass again, which was, at this point, more humiliating than it was painful.

“God dammit, stop!” 

Alastair hit him again and again. Someone wedged something cold and hard between Dean’s ankles and he felt cuffs snap closed around them. Alastair wouldn’t stop hitting him. Someone was laughing. 

“Grace,” cried Dean. “Isn’t that the safe word?” He felt tears welling up in his eyes, from pain, shame or something else, he wasn’t sure. 

Alastair stopped hitting him. “Hand me the gag.”

“No,” said Dean. 

“Then shut up,” said Alastair.

“What’s the safe word?” asked Dean. “I really don’t think I can do this. Keep the money. Just let me go.”

Something slick ran across the crease of Dean’s ass. “What the fuck was that?” he asked.

Crowley laughed. “As entertaining as this is, how long before we get something we can use?” 

“He’ll wear himself out in a minute,” said Alastair.

The slick thing wormed farther between Dean’s cheeks and brushed against his hole. A finger. It had to be a finger. Dean tried to kick away but the bar between his legs was now tied to something else and it anchored him to the bed. Alastair’s knee weighed heavily against his lower back. His arms were going numb. His heart was beating too fast. He had to remind himself to keep breathing.

“I don’t want to do this,” said Dean. “Let me go. Keep the money. I can’t do this.”

Suddenly Alastair stopped teasing and shoved his finger into him. Dean screamed. Alastair pumped his finger in and out, setting a relentless pace.

“Record now,” said Alastair. He had to shout over Dean’s screams. He pulled against the tight ring of muscles and inserted a second slick finger. It burned. Dean was sure he was bleeding. He bucked against the bed then recoiled when his dick hit the mattress.

 Dean could feel Alastair’s fingers moving inside of him. He felt them prod and scissor and stretch. One finger bent and hit something that made Dean see stars. He was crying now. Any semblance he had of dignity was gone.

Alastair hit the spot again and again, then added a third finger. Dean was shaking all over. He was too hot. Every wave of pleasure from those fingers was followed by a wave of nausea. His mouth filled with saliva and salt. He was going to vomit. He was going to get fucked in the ass, tied to a bed, facedown in his own vomit and he was going to come like a whore. The whole thing would be posted online for everyone to see. Dean Winchester got fucked in the ass and loved it. Dean Winchester is a bitch. Dean Winchester is pathetic.

Alastair’s fingers wriggled in and out. They crawled around inside of him and he felt every damn touch; three, then two, then three, three, three, prostate, stretch, two, prostate, prostate, prostate, prostate. 

Dean turned his head and vomited.

Alastair cackled. Crowley kept rolling—or maybe he didn’t. Maybe at this point they were just having fun.

“Grace,” breathed Dean. The stench of sweat, puke and sex was strong. He tried to turn away from the mess he’d made but he couldn’t escape the smell; couldn’t escape their voices. 

Those fingers kept moving inside of him, writhing like a spider’s legs.

“Grace,” he muttered.

“Poor boy,” said Alastair. “That’s not my safe word.”

Dean wasn’t sure if he screamed again. He heard laughter. He felt something hit him. He heard something heavy slam against something solid. He heard a loud bang. He heard screaming. Alastair pulled his fingers away.

Dean’s stomach clenched and he dry heaved. He turned his head toward the bang. It came from the front of the room near the door. He tried to dislodge the blindfold but failed. The room fell silent.

“Get off of him,” said a voice. 

“You shot the bloody camera,” said Crowley.

There was another loud bang. The weight on Dean’s back disappeared.

“Everybody out,” said the voice. 

Dean heard footsteps. Seconds later someone pulled the blindfold from his face and Dean found himself staring into familiar icy blue eyes. The dom was clothed now. He wore a suit with a tie tied backwards and had a tan trench coat tossed over one shoulder. 

The dom didn’t ask any questions like “are you all right?” or “did they hurt you?” He worked quickly to untie him; hands first, spreader bar second. He helped Dean roll onto his back and untied the binds around his dick. Dean didn’t dare look down.

“They’ll be back,” said the dom. “We have to hurry.”

Dean nodded, blinking hard against the too-bright lights of the room. He clutched his stomach.

“Put your hands on my shoulders,” said the dom. “We’ll stand together.”

Dean did as he was told. His knees trembled but didn’t give.

The dom pulled his coat from his shoulder and wrapped it around Dean. He tucked his gun into the waistband of his black pants then in one smooth motion, lifted Dean into his arms. 

Even weighed down by Dean, he was fast. He walked briskly to the door and stopped. He stooped and released Dean long enough to collect the bag sitting in the corner and the pile of Dean’s clothes. He dumped the collection into Dean’s lap then gripped him firmly and stood. 

Voices echoed down the hall behind them. The dom broke into a run and Dean clung to him. He kicked the front door open and they burst outside into the cool night air. 

“Which vehicle is yours?” he asked.

“Black one,” said Dean. He pointed to the black Chevy Impala parked nearby. 

“Keys?”

Dean fumbled through the pile of clothes in his lap and retrieved his keys. The dom set him down gently and Dean clutched his belongings to his chest. He opened the door for Dean, then hurried to the driver’s side and got behind the wheel. Dean didn’t protest.

Crowley was already to the front door of the building, flanked by Alastair and God only knew whom else. 

The impala roared to life and the dom threw it into reverse and hit the gas. They sped backwards out of the driveway until they hit the main road. The dom threw the car into drive without stopping.

They made it. Dean twisted around in his seat and watched the roof of that terrible place fade away behind the trees. He turned back around and slumped down into his seat. 

He glanced at the man driving his car, adrenalin surging through him. “I don’t even know your name,” he said.

“Castiel,” he answered. “Cas for short.”

Dean nodded. “Thanks, Cas. I owe you.”


	3. Secure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I needed to make this better so I went ahead and wrote another chapter...I made myself feel bad. 
> 
> Trauma aftermath + a shower + some backstory

“Where do you live?” asked Cas.

Dean pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Just go to your place. I’ll drop you off and head back home.”

“Do you have someone who can look after you?” 

Dean swallowed hard. John should be home, unless he was still at the bar. If there was a God in heaven he’d still be at the bar and he wouldn’t be around for Dean’s walk of shame. Dean must have taken too long to respond.

“I’ll take that as a no,” said Cas.

“My dad,” said Dean. “I live with my dad.” 

 _I’m 21 and I still live with my dad because I can’t get my shit together._  

“Is it safe for you there?” asked Cas. “Will he take care of you?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” said Dean. He shifted in his seat and his ass stung. The ghost of Alastair’s hand brushed over him. “Pull over,” muttered Dean. 

“What’s wrong?”

Dean clutched his stomach. “Just pull over,” he growled. 

Cas slowed the car and came to a stop in the grass. 

Dean threw open the door and leaned out headfirst. There was nothing left to throw up. He hung out of the car dry heaving.

Cas touched his shoulder and he jerked hard, almost falling onto the ground.

“Dean,” said Cas softly. 

“Don’t,” gasped Dean. Alastair’s hands were all over him. 

 _Good boy._  

Dean stumbled out of the car, one hand still clutching the door. The grass was cool and wet with evening dew. He heard the driver’s side door open and close. He saw a pair of black shoes appear in front of him. Cas knelt down so he was at eye level. 

“I think you should go to the ER,” he said.

The ER. It wasn’t an emergency. He hadn’t been raped. He was just being a bitch. He needed to nut up. He needed to stop shaking. “I’m fine,” muttered Dean. His stomach lurched again. 

“You need a doctor.” 

“Can’t,” muttered Dean.

_Can’t let anyone see me like this. And God for-fucking-bid I see someone I know at the hospital._

“Then I respectfully request you let me take you back to my place,” said Cas. “I was a doctor in another life. But I understand if you don’t trust me.” 

Dean finally looked up from the ground. 

Cas’ eyebrows were pinched in concern. His expression echoed Dean’s pain. 

“I will need to know what happened—if they drugged you and how they hurt you—but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“He just shoved his fingers in my ass and smacked me around a little,” said Dean. “That’s it. Not a big deal.” He swayed slightly and tightened his grip on the door. “No big deal. I’m just overreacting. I do that sometimes. Probably to get attention. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Dean,” Cas’ voice was still soft but it had an edge of authority. “This is a very big deal.” 

“It’s not,” said Dean. His vision blurred and he was going to fucking cry again. He didn’t deserve to go back home. He didn’t deserve his father or his brother. 

“Are you able to get back into the car?” asked Cas. 

Dean closed his eyes and nodded. 

“Do you need assistance?” 

Dean shook his head. The least he could do was stand up on his own. He got to his feet, knees still shaking. Cas shut the door behind him then returned to his place behind the wheel. 

“My house?” asked Cas. 

“Yeah,” muttered Dean.

Cas drove quickly. When they reached his neighborhood, he circled the block several times to make sure no one was waiting for them. After his search, he pulled into the driveway and parked the car. 

“Dean,” he said, voice still gentle, “I need you to take the keys and sit behind the wheel with the doors locked. I’m going to check the house and yard and make sure we’re alone.” 

“You shouldn’t do that by yourself,” said Dean. 

Cas almost looked offended. “I assure you, I’ll be fine.” He handed Dean the keys and retrieved his gun. “If you hear anything suspicious or see anyone approaching that isn’t me, don’t wait, drive as far away as you can as fast as you can and don’t look back.” 

 _Like hell I will._  

“Ok,” said Dean. 

Cas nodded, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced. He shut the door to the impala and waited for Dean to lock the car before leaving. Cas disappeared quickly into the shadows and Dean lost sight of him. The next ten minutes drug on painfully slow. 

When the porch light came on, Dean let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Cas returned and gave Dean a thumbs-up as he approached the car. 

Dean grabbed his clothes and the bag from the other place and got out of the Impala. Cas took the keys and locked the car. He offered to carry him again but Dean refused, his shredded dignity having undergone enough abuse for one day. Cas lead him to the living room and told him to wait on the couch while he locked the Impala in the garage.

Cas returned a few minutes later. “Your car is secure. The alarm system is armed and all of the doors and windows are locked. The motion sensor light is on in the backyard and I’m leaving the front porch light on so it will be harder to sneak up on the house undetected. You will be safe here.” 

“Porn star, doctor, security expert?” asked Dean. 

“Ex-military,” answered Cas. 

“Ok,” said Dean. “Didn’t see that coming. Army?” 

“Air Force.”

That explained a lot. “Air Force doctor?” asked Dean. 

“Yes.” Cas circled to the front of the couch. “May I approach?”

“Sure.” 

Cas stepped closer; head tilted and eyebrows creased. “I’d like to examine you,” he said. “But I don’t know if that would make things better or worse for you. Physical trauma is my area of expertise. I don't have much experience with psychological trauma.”

Dean leaned his head back against the couch. He was still wrapped in Cas’ trenchcoat, still clutching his possessions to his chest. The reality of the past few hours was fading in and out. He was teetering between numbness and mania. He wanted to scream.

“I don’t want to puke on your couch,” said Dean. 

“I think your system is empty,” said Cas. “When was the last time you ate?”

“I’m not sure,” said Dean. “Day before last?” 

“Jesus,” muttered Cas. “You need to eat—nothing heavy but your body need energy. I suggest a shower, or bath depending on how steady you feel, then I would like to examine you, then feed you.” 

“Go for it,” said Dean. 

Cas sighed. “Will you allow me to escort you to the bathroom?” 

“Yeah.”

 _Yes sir._  

Dean covered his face with his hands. Thirty showers wouldn’t even begin to wash away what happened. Dean was dirty. He was going to have to live with that. 

He allowed Cas to drag him to his feet and lead him to the bathroom. 

“Shower or bath?” asked Cas. 

“Shower,” answered Dean. “I don’t want to soak in filth.” 

Cas ran his thumb lightly over Dean’s shoulder. He turned the water on and tested the temperature. “Do you need help bathing?” 

Dean looked down at the tile floor and his head was suddenly too heavy to lift. “No,” he mumbled. 

“Are you sure? I’ve helped patients bathe before. I won’t hurt you.” 

Dean choked back a sob. He should have listened to Cas when he said Alastair was too rough. He should have insisted on staying with Cas. He shouldn’t have been greedy. He should have just taken the pay cut. 

“The safe word didn’t work,” Dean said to the floor. “I tried but—” He bit back another sob. The white noise of the shower made it easier to talk, made his own voice sound smaller and farther away. 

“They are monsters,” said Cas. “I shouldn’t have left you.”

“How can you stand to work with people like that?” asked Dean. He regretted it as soon as he said it. Cas wasn’t a monster. He didn’t mean it as an accusation.

“I’ve been with them for two weeks,” said Cas. “This is the first time I’ve witnessed them do something so abhorrent. Though I think shooting at my co-star and director means I’ve officially tendered my resignation.” 

Dean laughed. It felt good to laugh. It pushed the memories farther away. He looked up at Cas. 

Cas gave him a sort of sad half-smile. “I must confess I am partially, if not entirely responsible for what happened to you,” he said.

“How the hell do you figure that?”

“Revenge,” answered Cas. “They say I take too long and my scenes are not convincing. They punished you to punish me.” 

“I doubt that,” said Dean. “Crowley was already pretty pissed before you walked through the door.”

Cas sighed. “I’m so sorry I left you alone with them. I knew better.” 

“It’s not your fault,” said Dean. “I told you to leave.”

 _I brought this on myself. I got hard. I liked it. I must have wanted it._  

Dean returned his gaze to the floor.

Cas’ hand was still on his shoulder. “I will not let them hurt you again.” 

Dean nodded, but pulled away.

Cas let him. “Call me if you need help,” he said. 

“I will.”

Cas turned and left the room, pulling the bathroom door shut behind him.


	4. Soup and a Trenchcoat

Dean scrubbed his entire body until it was raw. His dick was a little bruised and the hot water stung the skin where Alastair hit him. He leaned against the tile and turned the water on hotter until the burning felt normal and the steam became too thick for him to breathe. The pain of the water canceled out the pain from Alastair. He told himself this was why he hurt. The shower was too hot. It was a pain he could control. Alone, under the water, his mind cleared. When he closed his eyes it was almost like he was home and nothing had changed—like the last 24 hours never happened.

When he climbed out of the shower his skin was red and steaming. He dried off and saw Cas had left two piles of clothes for him on the toilet seat. One was his own clothes—what he wore to the shoot. The other pile was unfamiliar, soft and smelled freshly washed. He opted for the new clothes. He’d probably burn his own once he got the chance.

He started to dress, but remembered Cas said something about examining him. For some reason the idea of dressing then undressing again made him sick. He wrapped a towel around his waist and leaned over the sink.

There was a knock at the bathroom door. “I heard the water turn off,” said Cas. “Are you still all right?” 

For one brief, horrible moment Dean wanted to kick the door open and beat Cas until he bled. One more question; one more prodding note of concern, one more implication that Dean was too weak to handle himself— 

Then just as quickly as it appeared, the rage was gone. 

“Dean?” 

“I’m good,” said Dean. “Can we get the exam over with?” 

“Do you feel up to it?” asked Cas, still talking through the door. 

“No, but it’s probably a good idea, right?”

Cas paused. “I’m not sure,” he answered. “I’ve never dealt with a rape victim before. I don’t want to cau—” 

Dean grabbed the toothbrush holder from the edge of the sink and threw it against the wall. “I wasn’t raped,” he shouted. The container turned out to be ceramic and it shattered.

Cas threw open the door, eyes wide. 

Dean stared at him, then stared down at the broken pieces of pottery. He backed away from the door until he bumped up against the wall. He slid down to the floor, his face in his hands. 

He heard Cas approach and sit down beside him. 

“I apologize,” said Cas. “I was never known for my bedside manor.” 

“It’s not you,” mumbled Dean. “I’m just a little fucked up right now.” 

“You’re entitled to be fucked up,” he said. “I shouldn’t rush you.” 

“I’ll buy you a new toothbrush thing,” said Dean. 

“That’s really the least of my concerns at the moment,” said Cas. “Do you feel like you could eat some soup?” 

Dean huffed. “Honestly, I’d rather you just examine me. I think I’m bleeding and I don’t want to bleed on your clothes. And I _really_ don’t want to keep sitting on the bathroom floor naked.” 

“All right,” said Cas. “Are you regularly taking any medication?” 

“Does liquor count?” 

“No—well, technically no—but I’ll make a note of that.” 

“Then no, I’m not on anything.” 

“How about drugs? Herbal or chemical.”

“Nope. Just liquor.” 

Cas nodded to himself and stood up. He kicked a few ceramic shards to the side and rummaged through the medicine cabinet about the sink. He retrieved several bottles then tilted his head to the door. “Follow me.”

Dean pushed himself up and trailed after Cas back into the living room. There was a bowl of warm water and a washcloth on the table, as well as a meticulously organized and extensive first aid kit. 

Cas noticed Dean eyeing the supplies as he set the pill bottles on the table. “I wanted to make the process go a quickly as possible,” he said. He opened a bottle and shook a pill into his hand. “Have you ever taken xanex before?” 

“No,” answered Dean. 

He handed Dean the pill and a glass of water. “That’s one milligram. It will help with anxiety and stress. You might feel sleepy. If your vision begins to blur, or you feel confused or generally ill, tell me immediately.”

Dean hesitated before taking the pill. 

“You don’t have to take it,” said Cas. “I wanted to offer it to help relieve your stress.” 

Dean took it. He’d trusted Cas this far. He swallowed the pill then waited, then felt stupid for expecting an immediate reaction. A snapping sound caught his attention.

Cas was putting on a pair of latex gloves. “I thought I’d check your rectum and anus first,” he said. He suddenly seemed to have trouble maintaining eye contact. “The rest of the exam will be significantly less invasive.”

“Let’s get it over with,” said Dean. “Should I bend over a grab my ankles?” He tried to laugh, but it stuck in his throat. Apparently his brain thought it was too soon to make jokes. 

“If you could lie on your side on the couch with your knees apart, I think that will work best,” said Cas. He handed Dean a pillow and spread a towel over the cushions.

Dean didn’t have a retort for that, so he lay down as Cas instructed, with the pillow between his knees.

“It’s important for you to communicate with me while I do this,” said Cas. “If I hurt you, tell me. If you are uncomfortable, tell me. If you feel stressed, tell me.” 

“I’ve been stressed since five this afternoon,” said Dean. 

“I’m going to touch you now,” said Cas.

Dean groaned and sucked in a breath. “Do me a favor,” he said, “don’t narrate.” 

“Understood,” said Cas. After that he kept his mouth shut. His fingers were slick, but not sticky like Alastair’s. His hands were warm and firm, but still gentle. He did not invade or push. If Dean flinched, Cas would pause before resuming the exam. The whole ordeal was over in about five minutes. 

“You do have some tearing,” said Cas. “It will heal on its own, but I would like to apply an ointment to help with pain and prevent infection.” 

“Ok,” said Dean. He was facing away from Cas and staring at the light blue couch cushions. He had a throw pillow clutched to his chest. 

“I also need to apply a cream to your buttocks where Alastair hit you. The skin isn’t broken, but it is inflamed. This will help with the pain.” 

“Ok,” said Dean. 

He felt Cas touch his ass, then spread his cheeks again and rub something cool against his entrance. Thirty seconds was all it took.

Cas snapped off his gloves. “You can turn over now.” 

Dean rolled over and Cas was ready with another towel to cover him. 

“Next I need to check for bruising and signs of trauma to your penis and testicles,” said Cas. 

Dean stared up at the ceiling. “Ok,” he said, still clutching the throw pillow to his chest. 

“Again, communication is important.” 

“Got it,” said Dean. 

Cas snapped into another pair of gloves and lifted the towel. He gently nudged Dean’s knees apart, similar to the way he did when they first met that afternoon—when he was Master instead of Cas. Dean was vaguely aware that his foot was shaking. 

“How old are you?” asked Cas. 

“21,” answered Dean. 

“How long have you owned that car?” Cas lifted Dean’s penis. 

Dean tried not to flinch. “Dad gave it to me last year.”

“How long have you lived in town?” He gently pressed his fingertips into the surrounding area.

“We’ve lived here on and off. Every few years we leave, then every few years we come back.”

“Do you have any other family nearby?”

“My little brother,” answered Dean.

Cas tugged at Dean’s knees, signaling for him to relax his legs again. “How old is he?”

“17,” answered Dean. “Heading to college in the fall.” 

Cas replaced the towel over Dean's waist and removed his gloves. “What will he study, has he decided?” Cas encouraged him to roll back over onto his side. “Stay on your side until the ointment has dried.”

“Law,” answered Dean. He glanced down at Cas who was perched on the edge of the couch. He had one hand over Dean’s calf absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over the skin. 

“It must be nice to have a lawyer in the family,” said Cas.

“Yeah,” said Dean. “He’s a smart kid, too. No idea where he got his brains. Must have come from Mom’s side of the family.” He inhaled sharply as soon as “mom” left his mouth.

Mercifully, Cas didn’t prod. “You must be very proud.”

“I am,” said Dean. 

Cas stood. “I’ll bring you some clothes. Do you think you can eat now?” 

Dean’s stomach answered for him with a growl. 

Cas smiled and stood. He returned a few moments later with the clothes from the bathroom. “I’m going to heat up some soup. Do you have any allergies?”

“No,” answered Dean. 

“Are you a vegan or vegetarian?” 

Dean laughed. “No.”

“All right. Get dressed and I’ll get you some food.” 

Dean wasn’t sure why Cas switched from over-protective mother hen to removed doctor, but he welcomed the changed. He suspected it had something to do with him throwing things earlier. 

He stood and eased himself into a pair of Cas’ boxers. He heard a scraping sound down the hall and felt a little guilty. Cas was probably cleaning up the mess he’d made.

He pulled on a well-worn, stretched-out pair of sweatpants. They fit Dean, but he could only imagine they barely hung to Cas’ hips. He was slender and shorter than Dean. The t-shirt was a little snug, but it was also soft. Dean eyed the trenchcoat now hanging in the entryway. He felt a weird urge to hide himself in it.

_Just do it. He just smeared cream on your ass like you were an infant. If that didn’t cross the WTF line, wearing his coat won’t either._

Dean felt a little groggy as he made his way to the coat, but he didn’t second-guess himself. Maybe it was the xanex talking. Whatever it was, he liked it. He slipped into the coat and wrapped it tight around his torso, hugging it closer to his body.

Of course Cas chose that moment to reappear.

“I have beef and vegetable or chick—oh,” said Cas. He tilted his head to the side.

Dean was about to explain, but Cas interrupted. 

“Or chicken noodle,” he finished. “I admit; I never learned to cook more than eggs and toast and most of the time they come out burned. I hope canned soup is all right.” 

“I’m not picky,” said Dean, still awkwardly hugging the coat to his body.

“Do you want to eat on the couch or in the kitchen?” asked Cas. “I advise you sit on the couch as it is softer.”

“Uh—couch then,” said Dean. “Hey, I—I should have asked.” He half gestured to the coat. “I just—I don’t know. I don’t have a good reason.”

“You don’t need one,” said Cas. “As far as I’m concerned this is your safe space and you can do whatever you want. What’s mine is yours.” His cheeks suddenly flushed bright pink. “I’m glad I can offer something that brings you comfort.”

Dean felt the overwhelming urge to rush forward and bury his face in Cas’ neck, to hold him and let himself be held. Instead, he hugged the coat tighter. “You saved me today,” said Dean quietly. “I hope you understand that.” 

Cas’ eyebrows pinched together and his hands started fidgeting. “I feel like I should embrace you now, but I do not want to make you uncomfortable or disrespect your boundaries.”

“Uh,” said Dean, “You can—yeah, you should do that. The embrace thing, I mean.”

Cas closed the distance between them in two quick steps and pulled Dean into his arms. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’ neck and hid his face. Cas flattened his palm against Dean’s back and ran his hand in a soothing circular motion. 

And God dammit, Dean was crying again. Cas inhaled a shaky breath and Dean realized he wasn’t the only one disturbed by the day. He nuzzled closer to Cas and Cas responded by holding him tighter. In that moment, Dean realized Cas must also have a story. Somewhere in his life something went wrong and made him feel broken. Something happened that made him able to empathize with Dean right now. At some point, someone hurt him. 

Dean closed his eyes and scowled. Cas was a fucking angel. Dean would kill any son of a bitch who made him feel like he was anything less. Without thinking, he pressed his lips against the exposed skin of Cas’ shoulder.

Cas took another shaky breath and made a small whimpering sound. “You are safe with me, Dean. I promise you.” 

“You’re safe with me too, Cas,” said Dean. He ran a hand up Cas’ neck and laced his fingers through Cas’ hair. “I dare those fuckers to try to come after us.”


	5. Secrets

Cas made chicken soup and they ate together on the couch. Cas turned the TV to something benign.

Dean watched Cas from the corner of his eye and his imagination crept in, painting a picture of rainy day. Maybe that day the ex-Air Force doctor wasn’t feeling very well. Dean thought about cooking for him; making him his mother’s chicken and dumplings soup from scratch—minus the secret ingredient. She died before she could tell him what it was. She died before she could teach him how to make it. He created the recipe though memory and years of trial and error.

After years of over-salted broth, chewy dumplings, and mushy vegetables, Dean felt confident he’d learned from his mistakes and conquered the texture. Sammy always said it was good. But he was a baby when their mom died. He didn’t have anything to compare it to.

John usually wouldn’t eat it. On the rare occasion that he did, he’d give Dean a few words of advice (“she'd brown the vegetables first” or “she always complained about the dough being too sticky.”). Dean rebuilt his mother’s recipes through his own broken memories and whatever his father was willing to share. He told Sammy stories and kept her alive in their house for as long as he could. She would have loved Sam and he would have loved her.

Dean blinked hard. The idea of crying again today made him feel sick. The idea of puking again made him feel worse.

He glanced across the couch and his imagination continued its painting. Cas would love the soup. He’d love anything Dean cooked for him. He’d insist he didn’t need Dean to take care of him. Dean would insist he needed to stay wrapped up. Cas would remind him _he_ was the doctor.

Dean bit back a smile at the idea of a grumpy, bed-headed, rosy-cheeked Castiel arguing at him, but ultimately giving in. Dean would help him to bed—he’d probably catch whatever Cas had and— 

Dean dropped his spoon back into the bowl. 

 _Holy shit._  

His skin tingled and a nasty, cold feeling slithered through him and coiled in his gut. He glanced back over at Cas. Yes, he was attractive. Yes, he was kind. Yes, Dean enjoyed kissing him earlier. Yes, Cas was the only good thing about today. Cas was the only good thing about a lot of days in recent memory. 

“Are you all right?” 

Apparently Dean’s internal freak-out was not so internalized. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Just tired.”

He needed to go home. He couldn’t be gay again. John would take Sam away. John would tell Sam all the ways his big brother was bad and shatter the illusion of Dean.

Cas took the bowl from his hand. “You’re trembling.” He touched two fingers to the inside of Dean’s wrist. “And your heart rate is higher than normal.” He took Dean’s hand into both of his. “I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

“I’ve already talked about it,” said Dean, hoping Cas was only referring to what happened earlier.

_Can’t go home. You’re filthy. John will smell it on you._

“Are you ready for bed?” asked Cas. “I’m sure you’re exhausted.” 

Dean’s heart skipped a beat. They hadn’t discussed sleeping arrangements—or had they? He couldn’t remember. Did Cas want him to stay? Where would he sleep? Would John know that, too? 

“What time is it?” asked Dean.

“Almost midnight,” answered Cas. 

If he wasn’t invited to sleep here, he’d sleep in the Impala. He retrieved his phone from the pocket of his borrow sweatpants. It was the first time he’d checked his phone in hours. No messages. No missed calls. 

Cas moved his hand up and rested it on Dean’s shoulder. “You should sleep. I’ve got some multivitamins for you to take before bed.” He gripped Dean’s shoulder and stood. 

Dean stared at his phone. If he had gone missing, how long would it be before anyone came looking? 

Cas touched his shoulder again and offered a handful of various pills. Dean took them all at once. He heard Cas sigh behind him.

“I will sleep on the couch,” said Cas. “Let me put fresh sheets on the bed, then you can rest.”

Dean closed his eyes and sank back into the couch. “I’ll sleep out here,” he said. “You’ve done enough.”

“Doctor’s orders,” said Cas. “You need to have room to stretch.” He left without giving Dean a chance to argue. 

Dean stared at the TV, not really taking in what he was watching, until Cas returned.

“There is a box of medicine and a bottle of water on the table by the bed. You’ve got two painkillers, an antibiotic and another xanex. If you need more, let me know. I’m not keeping medication from you, but I do need to keep track of your dosage.” Cas stood in front of him with his head cocked to the side, watching. 

Dean decided to deflect. “How do you have so many pills?” 

“My sister runs a pharmacy.” 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “So you’re not really supposed to have this stuff, are you?” 

“Technically, no,” huffed Cas.

Dean had hit a button that triggered something in Cas. He couldn’t help himself. For once he wasn’t the one under the microscope today. “Are you still a doctor?”

“Yes,” answered Cas. “I will always be a doctor. But if you’re asking if I have a license, then no.”

Dean blinked, then grinned slowly. “You’ve got secrets,” he said.

“Yes,” answered Cas. 

Dean got up from the couch, Cas’ coat still wrapped around him. “Ex military—Air Force—unlicensed doctor, pretty damn good with a firearm, family drug hook-up, ex-porn star, and gay? Or was that part of the act?” 

“Gay,” confirmed Cas. 

Dean nodded. “What other secrets you got?”

“I practice mixed martial arts and I have a brown belt.”

“What the shit, Cas. Seriously?"

“Yes. I intend to reach black belt next year.”

Dean laughed. “Well fuck. I asked for secrets and you didn’t disappoint.”

Cas’ lip twitched and he almost smiled. “You should rest, Dean.”

“Is that your way telling me to stop asking stupid questions?”

“No, that’s my way of taking care of my patient,” answered Cas. He turned and headed to the bedroom, not waiting for Dean to follow.

Dean rolled his eyes and trailed after Cas.

His unofficial doctor turned the covers down and showed Dean where is medicine was.

“If you can’t sleep, I have many books. The ones on the top shelf are my favorite, so obviously I recommend you start there.” He held up a small box. “This is your medication. Each slot is labeled with the name and description of the pill it contains. You should go ahead an take the antibiotic now.” He set the box down and held up a tube of something. “This is for pain relief on your buttocks.” He held up a different tube. “This is for anal tearing.”

Dean picked up the container of pills. Sure as shit, each slot was clearly labeled and each pill had a description in case Dean got them mixed up. He popped the antibiotic into his mouth. 

“If you wake up in pain and need help with anything, come get me, call me, shout for me. Whatever you are capable of doing.” He pointed to a small note on the table. “That’s my cell number. I’ll have my phone on and by my side all night.”

Dean sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed his hand over the fresh white sheets. He looked up at the doctor. 

Cas rubbed the back of his neck and blushed for the second time that night. “I also have an air mattress,” he said. “I wasn’t sure how you would feel about being alone tonight. I wanted to offer you the opportunity to—um—to have company.”

“It’s your room, Cas,” said Dean. “You don’t have to ask—” 

“Yes, I do.” The blush faded quickly and Cas’ eyes turned cold. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. I meant that.” 

Dean broke away from the stare and glanced around the room. He jumped suddenly when he saw a red light glowing in the corner and a dark figure standing beside it. He blinked, and it was gone. He turned back to Cas who was suddenly kneeling in front of him.

“The trauma will haunt you for a while,” he said. “I wish with all that I am, that I could take that pain away. I’m sorry this is all I can offer.”

“Stay with me,” said Dean quickly. He blurted out the words before he thought about what he was asking.

Cas nodded, then stood.

Dean grabbed his hand. “I meant here,” he nodded back to the bed. “Unless that would weird you out.”

The chill ebbed from Cas’ expression. “Not at all.” He pulled away from Dean’s grasp and turned to his bookshelf. He pawed through several volumes before returning with a worn-out paperback. 

“Jurassic Park?” asked Dean. 

“It’s a fascinating story of creation,” said Cas. 

“I’m adding ‘mad scientist’ to your list of secrets,” said Dean.

Cas’ lip twitched again. “I’m going to shower. I thought you might like a distraction while I’m gone. That is usually the book I use to distract myself.”

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean turned the book over in his hands. He’d read it several times before. The spine was broken in multiple places where Cas must have repeatedly opened the book to a specific part. Dean decided to start from the first crease. 

Cas left and the shower turned on.

Dean tried to engross himself in the story. Instead, he found himself searching the pages for quotes and lines, trying to figure out which parts of the book were Cas’ favorite and why.

Cas returned sometime later. His hair was wet and he was wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt. He seemed small and tired.

Dean wanted to hold him. He shouldn’t have asked Cas to sleep here. He shouldn’t have accepted Cas’ offer to stay at the house. He shouldn’t have read between the lines of Cas’ favorite book in an attempt to decode the man. He shouldn’t care, shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t need the comfort.

“Do you need anything?” asked Cas, nodding to the table. 

“No,” answered Dean. He set the book aside and wriggled out of the trenchcoat. He hung it on the edge of the headboard and crawled under the covers.

“Lights on or off?” asked Cas.

“Off,” answered Dean. 

“The lamp beside you works,” said Cas. “If you change your mind and want a light, it will not bother me.” He flipped the switch. 

Dean watched the doctor’s silhouette approach the bed. He closed his eyes. One night. He would allow himself one night of comfort, then he’d move on. 

The bed dipped as Cas crawled into bed beside him. He pulled the covers over him, but Dean noticed Cas stayed above the top sheet. It created a barrier between them. 

Dean sighed. “Thanks, Cas.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he said. 

Dean rolled over, expecting to find himself facing Cas’ back. Instead he found Cas starting back at him. 

“Good night, Dean.” 

“Night, Cas.”

 


	6. Jurassic Park

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added more to this chapter because why not and fuck it...fuck everything.

_Dean saw the spider move out of the corner of his eye. He turned to crush it, but missed. It was small, white and fast. It was going to kill him. He couldn’t remember the species, but it was something terrible._

_If it bit him, he would die. If he let it leave the room, it would scurry down the hall to John’s room and then Sam’s. There were asleep. They’d never know it was coming._

_To his horror, Dean realized the crack beneath his bedroom door was growing wider. He grabbed a blanked from his bed and shoved it under the door. He’d lost track of the spider._

_His room was bright. He couldn’t find the damn light switch. Something told him if he could turn off the light the spider would glow and he’d be able to see it._

_Something tickled his arm and he jumped away. The spider scuttled across his body and up his chest. He couldn’t brush it off. He started tearing at his clothes. It was looking for a place to hide. It was going to nest somewhere on him and attack Sam the next time Dean left the room._

_Dean pounded his fists against his body in a desperate attempt to crush the spider. His arms ached. His chest ached. Everything ached. His flailing slowed. He slumped against the door. The spider stirred near his ear; he could feel it. He couldn’t move. The spider was going to get out. It was going to kill Sam._

_It crawled down his back, leaving a trail of wet, sticky web as it went. Dean realized he was naked. There was nothing to stop it from biting him._

_“Dad,” he called. “I can’t kill it.”_

_Someone growled something from the other side of the door. Dean couldn’t understand them._

_“Help!”_

_The web covered his entire body, glistening and unbreakable. Dean caught another glimpse of the creature as it crawled across his stomach. He felt each little leg tapping against his skin as it hurried again out of sight._

“Dean!”

He jolted awake and the room spun violently around him. He gasped for air, clutching his chest. The web was gone. He was clothed. He wasn’t in his room. There was no spider—no threat to him or his family. 

Someone ran a hand over his back and Dean’s stomach lurched. He clasped a hand over his mouth and ran to the bathroom. 

Cas. He was with Cas. His memories came back to him as he hung his head over the toilet bowl and hurled for the second time in 24 hours.

He heard someone approaching. He clutched the bowl with one hand and held the other out, palm first. “Don’t,” he panted. “Give me a second.” His torso seized again and he threw up the remaining contents of his stomach. He dropped his hand and stretched on arm across the toilet seat. He let his head slump to the side.

“May I approach?” asked Cas. His voice was soft, probably with the intention of sounding respectful and soothing.

Instead of calm, Dean felt hot breath ghost against his ear—heard someone whisper “good boy.” Dean coughed. His chest hurt. He realized he was leaning against the side where Alastair had grabbed his nipple. He shifted slightly, but didn’t turn his head. He couldn’t look at Cas. He couldn’t look at anyone right now. 

He heaved again, drooling into the toilet. The smell of stomach acid and sweat made him cringe. He felt fingertips tapping down his spine, moving lower and lower. He heaved again.

Cas was still standing behind him—probably regretting letting him stay. Dean clung to the toilet with shaky hands. Cas was watching him. Dean could feel his eyes on his back. Cas knew what he looked like underneath his clothes. He knew Dean’s body. He could only see what Dean allowed, but that wouldn’t stop him from imagining. 

Dean thought of the way Cas had kissed his neck. He gasped for air, his whole body convulsing now. He’d just slept in the same bed with Cas—with his dom. Jesus—there was no telling what Cas did to him while he was asleep. He’d taken so many pills since he’d arrived. 

“Dean.” 

Why did he give them his real name? Why did he let them call him that? Why did he let them touch him? He should have fought back. He should have tried harder. There was a moment, before the bar was between his legs, when it was just Alastair’s weight holding him down. Dean should have been able to roll over and run. 

“Dean.” 

 _Yes sir?_  

He hurled again. Nothing came up. He released the toilet and covered his head with his arms. Maybe he could drown himself. How hard would that be? He could just hold his breath until he passed out, then his face would be in the toilet and he’d drown. 

Something warm moved beside him and he flinched again. 

“Don’t worry,” said Cas. “I’m not going to touch you. I just want to make sure you’re all right.” His voice was distant again—clinical. It was less of that simpering “poor baby, are you ok?” and more removed. 

Dean’s breathing echoed in the toilet bowl. 

“I am concerned you will hyperventilate if you stay in that position,” said Cas. “Can you sit up?”

Dean took a shaky breath and uncovered his head. He kept himself propped against the bowl and kept his eyes closed.

“Much better,” said Cas. “You are rocking back and forth,” he continued.

He wasn’t aware he’d been doing that.

“I’m worried that will make you feel more nauseous." 

Dean stopped rocking. Now that he wasn’t moving he could tell how much his hands were shaking. “S-s-sorry,” he muttered. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” said Cas. “I’d like to take your pulse. May I touch your wrist?” 

Dean didn’t answer, he just held out his arm. “I know it’s fast,” he said. “I can feel it.” Cas wasn’t like the others. Of course he wasn’t—he’d literally kicked down the door and walked in, guns blazing, to rescue Dean. Cas was good. 

“I have a suggestion,” said Cas.

“I’m listening.”

“I think you should sit across from me with your hand over my heart.”

Dean cracked his eyes open and turned to look at Cas. He was in full-on doctor mode. He watched Dean carefully with his head tilted to the side. “What will that do?” asked Dean. 

“It is a breathing exercise,” answered Cas. “It’s to help you make your breath match mine. I will also count.”

“This sounds like some yoga bullshit,” muttered Dean. Nonetheless, he turned slowly away from the toilet and sat cross-legged in front of Cas on the bathroom floor. 

“Place your hand here,” said Cas. He tapped a spot high to the left side of his chest. 

Dean inched closer and raised a shaky hand. He hiccupped when he tried to inhale again. He splayed his fingers across Cas’ chest. 

Cas smiled. “Good. Now, inhale. One, two, three, four, five. Exhale. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.”

Dean felt Cas’ chest expand and fall beneath his fingertips. His hand was glistening with sweat. He realized he still had drool covering one side of his face. He tried to wipe it away with his free hand. 

“Inhale. One, two, three, four, five.” Cas handed him a nearby towel. Cas was always prepared. Maybe it was the doctor in him. Maybe it was another secret. 

Dean followed Cas’ breathing until his hiccups subsided and his arm stopped trembling. Somewhere along the way his hand had formed into a fist and he was clutching the front of Cas’ shirt. He let go and pulled away. “Sorry,” he said again.

“The first few nights are the worst,” said Cas. “But I promise it will get better.” 

Dean ran a hand over his face. He felt sticky again and his breath smelled awful. He couldn’t take care of himself. Cas didn’t deserve to be burdened with him. 

Cas flushed the toilet beside him and closed the lid. “Would you like to watch a movie?” he asked. “The sofa converts to a bed and I have all of the Jurassic Park movies on DVD.” He paused. “I should be honest. It’s very hard to resist the urge to put you on bed rest and insert an IV into your arm to make sure you stay hydrated.” 

“I’d much rather binge watch Jurassic Park,” said Dean. 

“Could I persuade you to lay propped up on the sofa bed in case you decided to sleep?” 

Dean huffed a laugh. “Yeah.” 

“Could I also persuade you to see if you cold keep down some wheat toast and water?” 

Dean sighed. “Cas, I should go home. It’s late. Dad and Sam are probably asleep. You’ll be up all night if I stay.” 

“I have nothing better to do,” said Cas. “If you leave, I’ll be up all night worrying about you, and I cannot guarantee that I can stop myself from following you home to stand guard.” 

“That’s insane.” 

“I’m aware.” 

Dean shook his head. “Jurassic Park it is.”

 

* * *

 

Cas essentially built a nest in the center of the pullout. He fussed over how Dean should prop, took his pulse again, debated with himself over whether Dean should take another xanex (“No, it may be what triggered his panic attack earlier”), and brought in two pieces of wheat toast and a glass of ice water.

Dean patted an empty space in the pillow fortress beside him after Cas handed over the meal. 

“I’m not sure I should sit wi—” 

Dean bit his lip and pulled his hand back, because duh, what the hell was he thinking? Forget the sudden urge to cuddle up on a couch with a man; the last time Cas tried to comfort him, he puked. Not to mention the fact that he was dirty and stained in a way that could never be cleaned. And don’t even start with the way Cas had been forced to cater to Dean all damn day. The very least Dean should be able to do was sit on the couch by himself. 

Dean took a bite of the toast and grimaced “Is this cardboard smeared with oil?” he asked. 

“It’s wheat bread with a butter substitute,” said Cas. He left and returned a moment later with two cups of tea. “I want you to drink your water, but I thought you might also appreciate something warm.”

Cas grabbed the remote and turned on the television. He squinted at the couch, then approached cautiously and crawled among the pillows to sit next to Dean. 

The moment Dean detected the warmth of another body his heart skipped and his body flew threw his entire index of emotion. 

 

Rage _: If you touch me, I’ll kill you._

Despair _: It’s my fault. I could have stopped it._

Disgust _: I want you to stay._

Disgust _: Please don’t touch me. I won’t survive another layer of grime._

Hopelessness _: I was too weak to stop them. I’m probably too weak to stop you._

Hope _: I don’t want to stop you._

Fear _: What the fuck am I doing? What if Dad finds out?_

Rage _: Fuck him. Fuck my whole family. Fuck the world for not knowing me._

Guilt _: Sammy doesn’t know any better._

Guilt _: Cas is too nice to me._

Hope _: Maybe I can help him too. God, I’d do anything to make him ok._

Unknown _: I want to hold him._

 

Dean’s body decided to express these emotions by crossing his arms firmly over his chest, but leaning closer to Cas.

Cas made no attempt to hide the fact that he was now studying Dean. After several minutes of staring at one another, Cas raised his arm and let it rest on the back of the couch behind Dean’s shoulders. 

Dean looked down at his own lap and decided that, of all the feelings currently shouting for a voice, hope was the loudest.

Cas hit play and the movie began.

By the time the t-rex had broken free of its enclosure, Dean and Cas were sitting shoulder to shoulder with Cas’ arm wrapped firmly around Dean.

When the frilled dinosaur spit poison from the front seat of the jeep, Dean’s head was resting beneath Cas’ chin. 

When the power came back on and the velociraptors were attacked by the t-rex, Dean was asleep, pillowed against Cas. 

When Cas started the next movie, Dean woke up, but only to wiggle closer to the doctor and mutter another “thank you” before drifting off to sleep.


	7. The Video

 

 

 

Dean woke up to his phone buzzing beside his face. He was sweating and still struggling to adjust to the reality beyond his latest dream. His phone was solid in his hand. It was one in the afternoon. He had 13 missed calls, 20 new texts and five voice messages. He checked the missed calls. Sam called 10 times. An unsaved number called three times. 

Crowley. 

He checked his voicemail. The first message was from Crowley. 

 _“I’m sure you think you’re clever, running out with my money and crying wolf all the way home. How fortunate for you that Castiel has a soft heart and a small little walnut brain. Unfortunate, however, that I have a quick temper and I hate,_ hate _, lazy workers who don’t earn their pay. You have one hour to respond. Return the money and we’ll forget this whole unpleasantness ever happened. Ta-ta.”_

Crowley left the message at 9 a.m. The next message was Crowley again.

_“You know, Dean, I really didn’t think you’d give us your real name. We had a little bet going. I bet against. I lost. Funny. Second time in 24 hours that I’ve lost money because of you. Anyway, this is a courtesy call. You have ten minutes remaining.”_

Crowley left the next message at 10:15 a.m.

_“As luck would have it, I found another little Winchester boy on Facebook. His name is Sam. He is friends with a Dean Winchester, though poor Dean doesn’t seem to have a very active account. Sam has tagged you in a few photos though. ‘Celebrating my 16 th birthday with Dad and Dean.’ Sweet boy. I assume he’s your brother? Point being I messaged him an hour ago, just after I called you. I told him I had information about you. Gave him my number. He called right away. I didn’t answer. I waited. I really wanted you to call—just so desperate to hear your voice. But, since you never called, I settled for Sam. I did send him a video though. Now he won’t stop calling. Oh, I think that’s him beeping in now. Better go.”_

The next message was from Sam. All of the texts were from Sam. There was nothing from John and nothing else from Crowley. 

A snore from the other side of the couch made Dean jump. He had to leave. He’d listen to the rest of the messages in the car. His hands shook as he slipped off of the mattress. He snuck to the bathroom and dress quickly in his old clothes. He couldn’t risk showing up wearing another man’s pajamas. He grabbed his keys and his wallet and finally, it clicked. 

Cas took the money when they left. Cas had it. Dean went back to the bedroom and saw the bag sitting on the edge of the bed. The cash was still in it. He left as quickly and quietly as he could, money in hand.

 _They kidnapped Sam. You’re gonna have to kill them. What do we know about hiding bodies?_  

Dean shook the thoughts from his head as he got behind the wheel of the Impala. He held the phone up to his ear as he backed away from Cas’ house. Listening to the messages was the only way to confirm Sam was safe. Crowley said he sent Sam a video. There was really only one way to interpret that. Cas shot the camera but that didn’t mean he’d damaged the SD card or whatever. Dean waited for Sam’s message to play. Even if Crowley didn’t take Sam, Dean still wouldn’t see him again—not if Sam saw what he’d done. His family would disown him. 

Dean decided to play Sam’s most recent message first. The message began with a deep inhale. 

 _“I don’t know what’s going on or why you won’t answer your phone. Dad still won’t let me call the cops. He’s pissing me off. I don’t know what to do. Please come home.”_

Dean pulled over. His hands were shaking too much for him to get a good grip on the wheel. Sam was safe, but John knew. How much did John know? He played Sam’s first voice message.

 _“Dude, this guy messaged me about an hour ago on facebook saying he knew stuff about you. I thought it was bullshit but he just sent me—he sent—just call me, ok?”_  

Dean swallowed hard and scrolled through the texts. He read fast, as though only half paying attention would somehow lessen the severity of his predicament. He played the rest of Sam’s messages. They confirmed his suspicions. 

Crowley tried to call Dean. Dean slept through the opportunity to make things right. Sam called Crowley. Eventually, Crowley sent Sam a video. Sam was never able to articulate or type out what he saw. He just kept calling it “the video.” After Sam couldn’t reach Dean, he told John. John told Sam to wait (presumably for Dean to come home). Sam kept trying to reach Dean in the meantime.

His phone buzzed in his hand and he jumped. Sam again. Dean threw the phone into the seat beside him and steered his car back onto the road. Home, then consequences, then he’d figure out how to move on.


	8. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Crazytown.

When Dean pulled into the driveway, the front door of the old white farmhouse flew open. A lanky teen with shaggy brown hair rushed to the car. Dean barley had time to stand and shut the door before Sam was standing in front of him, staring like Dean’s very existence was a surprise. 

“Dude I literally was about to call 911,” said Sam. He held up his phone. “What the fuck? Where have you been? I tried to look for you, but Dad wouldn’t let me take the Jeep.” 

“Sorry,” said Dean. “I stayed out too late, drank too much. I crashed at a friend’s house.” 

Sam was already shaking his head. “But that weird guy—did you get my messages? This guy sent me a private message on Facebook saying he had information about you, then like an hour later he sent me this—this—uh—a thing, and I thought—I don’t know. I thought you’d been kidnapped. Were you kidnapped?” 

“No,” answered Dean. “Can I see your phone?” 

Sam raised his eyebrow. 

“I want to see the video the guy sent you,” said Dean. “You can either describe it to me yourself or just let me look at it.”

Sam surrendered his phone without protest. 

Dean scrolled through Sam’s texts and found the thread from Crowley. Dean turned down the media volume before hitting play. Six seconds. That was it. It was six seconds of him sucking Cas’ dick. It was a tight shot; too close for Dean to claim it wasn’t him. It didn’t show anything else—didn’t show Dean screaming or struggling—didn’t show him saying “no” over and over again. It was just six seconds of Dean in a blindfold very willingly sucking dick. 

Dean deleted the message thread then handed the phone back to Sam.

“I thought,” began Sam, voice cracking slightly, “I thought this was a hostage video or something,” he said. He bit his lip. “Was it? Were you—”

“No,” snapped Dean.

“Are you ok?” 

“Yeah, Sammy. Of course I’m ok.” He crossed his arms over his chest to hide the shaking. He couldn’t fucking stop shaking. His stomach turned. 

“Then I don’t understand,” said Sam. 

“Someone was being an asshole,” said Dean.

“You said you drank too much,” said Sam. “Do you remember what happened last night?” 

Dean ran a hand over his face. “Nothing happened. That,” he pointed to the phone, “has nothing to do with last night.” 

_Let the Lying Olympics begin._

“I don’t know what that was," continued Dean, "but it wasn’t me and you don’t need to be worried.” 

Sam looked back at his phone. “You deleted it,” he said. “Dean, that was evidence.” 

Dean huffed. “Did Dad see it?” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but he wasn’t any fucking help. He was three sheets to the wind last night and still pretty trashed when he got up. Hell, he’s probably already drunk again.” 

“Where is he?” 

“Inside,” answered Sam. “He went into work but Uncle Bobby sent him home.” 

Bobby Singer was their unofficial uncle and the only reason Dean and John had jobs. He owned a garage in town. Dean was a full-time mechanic and John worked half-time. Bobby regularly sent John home. But if John had been sober, he would have been at work. If he’d been at work, maybe he wouldn’t have seen the video. Then again, if Sam had been left alone to figure this out he probably would have called the cops and that John would have found out anyway. 

“He’s not mad,” said Sam. “He just wasn’t any help.” Sam shook his head and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “God, I’m glad you’re all right.”

“Guess I should tell Dad I’m back,” said Dean.

“I’ll go with you.” 

It wouldn’t matter. With Sam at home and awake and in the loop, John wouldn’t say anything. Dean was a toxin to be disposed of once Sam was safely contained somewhere else. Their mother died in a fire when Sam was an infant, but Sam still had nightmares about their home burning down. After Mary died John devoted his life to keeping Sam’s world pure and clean and safe. Sam hated it and told Dean the reason he wanted to move so far away was to get away from John. 

Dean remembered the fire. Dean was already stained. When Dean was in high school, John caught him making out with boy, that added a layer of grime. Dean walked the line of being too dirty to be a part of Sam’s world and a necessary sentinel to keep Sam safe. 

Sam, of course, had no idea.

John promised that the day Dean slipped up again would be the last day he saw Sam. The definition of “slip up” remained nebulous because Dean had always been too afraid to ask for clarification. But he didn’t need clarification to know what happened yesterday counted as a slip up.

He followed Sam into the house. John was sitting on the couch watching television. He nodded at Dean when the boys entered.

“Told you,” said John. “You were worried for nothing. Dean, glad you’re back.” 

“Thanks,” said Dean. “Sorry to worry you guys.”

“I wasn’t worried,” said John.

Sam rolled his eyes. “You should both be worried. That was weird.”

Dean faked a yawn. “You guys mind if I take a nap? I’m still a little hungover.” 

John didn’t protest. He wouldn’t look at Dean. Sam shook his head, clearly exasperated and clearly not buying the pathetic story John and Dean were desperately trying to sell. Dean was tainted and Sam was too smart to stay pure forever. He already knew too much. But John was right to try to save him a little longer. John wasted his life. Dean’s life was already beyond salvaging. Sam was the last hope. If lying and hiding kept Sam unburdened a little longer, long enough for him to make something of himself, it would be worth it. 

Dean waited alone in his room until nightfall. He didn’t change clothes. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t fall asleep. Half of him was forming an argument in favor of letting him stay. The other half knew he had to leave. Bad people were after him and the first thing they did was reach out and scratch at Sam’s world. He sat on his bed with his head in his hands. John couldn’t afford to let him stay. 

He heard Sam’s bedroom door close around midnight. He heard John approach his room around one. He didn’t knock. He opened the door and when he saw Dean was awake, he motioned for him to follow. They couldn’t talk upstairs. They might wake up Sam.

Dean followed his father downstairs, through the living room, outside and into the front yard. It was dark; no moon, just bright stars.

“What did you do?” asked John.

Dean couldn’t look at him. His stomach flipped again. 

“You’ve got to tell me so I can be prepared.”

“I stole money,” answered Dean. The money, he realized, was still sitting in the trunk of the Impala. 

“What was that video.” 

There was no point in lying and Dean didn’t quite understand the part of himself that had the audacity to try. “I don’t know,” he answered.

John hit him once, hard, in the side of the face. “What was that video?” he repeated. 

“I agreed to do it for money,” answered Dean. He tasted blood. John was never one to pull his punches. “I got scared at the last minute and ran. I took the money anyway. They want it back.” Dean also didn't understand the part of himself that decided to leave Cas out of the story.

“Speak clearly, boy,” said John. “They who? How many? Are they going to come after us?” 

Dean shook his head. “I’ve got the money,” he said. “I’ll give it back and make it right. They won’t hurt us.”

John hit him again. “They who?” he repeated. “Numbers, Dean. How many?” 

“Two men and a woman,” answered Dean. “One of them is the person who contacted Sam. But once I give them back the money, we’ll be ok. I’ll make it right.” 

John didn’t speak and Dean didn’t look up. He stared down at his father’s feet. It didn’t escape his attention that John had led them to the Impala. Dean heard himself talking before he understood what he was saying.  
  
“I don’t want to go,” he said quietly.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” said John.

“Please,” whispered Dean. He knew he had to leave. He put Sammy in danger. When Mary died they were left with one good thing and that was Sam. Dean was dangerous. He had to leave. 

He heard keys clank and knew John must have set them on the hood of the Impala. “I’m going to tell him we had a fight,” said John. “I’ll tell him you’ve got a boyfriend. You got drunk, took a video, your boyfriend sent it to Sam as a joke.”

Dean nodded. 

“You figured you could lie your way out," continued John. "You and I talked. I told you that shit was inappropriate. You were embarrassed. You got irrational. You left to live with your boyfriend. You’re probably not going to speak to us for a while. That’s how mad you are.” 

Dean nodded again. 

“Don’t tell Bobby. He’s got a big mouth. He’ll let something slip to Sam and Sam will think he needs to help you. But he doesn’t, right?” 

“Right,” answered Dean.

“You’re going to handle this.”

“Yessir.”

“Take the money back. Do whatever you have to do. Don’t come home.”

Dean felt something in him crack, like a bone but deeper. He closed his eyes and placed a hand over his stomach. “Please,” he whispered.

“Don’t,” said John. “Don’t do that.” 

Dean bit his tongue. 

“You’ve got the car,” said John. “I put some stuff in the backseat for you—non-perishables and water. I’m sorry I can’t give you more. Did you pack?”

Dean shook his head. 

“You should have packed. Don’t act like you didn’t know this was coming. I warned you.” 

“I know,” said Dean. 

“You should leave now.” 

Wallet, keys, car. Dean had everything. He didn’t move.

John huffed. He grabbed Dean by the shirt collar, opened the door and shoved him into the car. He threw the keys into his lap. “Go,” said John.

Dean’s hands were shaking again. He couldn’t fucking stop shaking. 

John shut the door.

Dean finally looked up and saw his father through the window. John was scowling at him and every now and then he’d glance back at the house. When Dean failed to drive away, John made a move toward the door. 

Dean cranked the car. If John had to beat him to make him leave, he would. John would never beat Sam. Dean closed his eyes and prayed that was true. 

_Kill him._

Dean shook the thought away quickly. He gripped the steering wheel and threw the Impala into reverse. He didn’t look back as he drove away from the house.


	9. Semantics

He dug a cardboard box out of the dumpster behind the building where he last saw Crowley. He folded it back together and put the money inside. He wrote “Crowley” on the lid with a black marker. He put the box near the door and hurried back to the Impala. He waited, with the doors locked, and sent Crowley a text. It was four in the morning. 

The woman from the room—her name started with an “N” maybe?—came out of the building. She stood under the lamplight wearing a bathrobe. She glanced around the parking lot. When she saw the Impala, she nodded to Dean and took the box. Several minutes later, Crowley texted Dean a quick “Pleasure doing business with you.” 

Dean drove away. He pulled over when he suddenly felt sick. He didn’t throw up. He drove to the parking lot of a closed grocery story and parked in the back. He locked the doors and sat behind the wheel with his arms crossed over his chest. 

The money was gone. The money that would help Sam leave was gone. John wouldn’t let Sam leave. Sam needed Dean there to defend him, to help him escape. 

 _You’re justifying. You can’t go back._  

Dean leaned against the door. Not telling Bobby what happened probably meant he couldn’t go back and see Bobby, which meant he couldn’t work for Bobby, which meant he didn’t have a job. He didn’t pack, which meant he didn’t have any clothes other than what he was already wearing. What he was wearing was dirty. His chest felt tight. His shirt smelled like Alastair, even though Alastair never touched it. Or maybe he had. Dean wouldn’t have known. 

Dean wiped his hand over his forehead. He was too hot. He wanted to roll down the window, but it wasn’t safe. He gritted his teeth and started stripping, doing the best he could while still seated. He tossed his clothes, shoes and socks into the back seat. He heard something crinkle and remembered John said he’d left Dean “some stuff.”

Sadness gave way to fear, which gave way quickly to rage. Dean understood rage. It made him strong. He didn’t have to think when he was angry, he could just be. 

Naked, he got out of the car and opened the backdoor. He swept his clothes and everything John had packed onto the ground beside the Impala. Satisfied, he slammed the door then got back in the front seat.

The engine roared to life and Dean hit the gas. Several minutes down the road he took a quick inventory of his remaining belongings. The car was his—had been since he turned 18. It was a gift from Bobby and John. His phone was his but John paid the bill. It would probably be disconnected soon. He’d need to get a new number. Of course he’d need a new number. John couldn’t risk Sam being able to call him. Dean was more likely to ignore emails, but a phone call from his little brother—if Dean heard his voice again—he shook his head and focused.

His wallet had his license, debit card, some random crap and a $20 bill. 

He kept the Impala clean to the point of compulsion. He knew every item in that car and after kicking out John’s contribution to his new life nothing significant remained.

He’d have to steal new clothes—he couldn’t shop naked. There was a blanked in the trunk. That would have to work for now. It was almost dawn. Dean’s phone rang. An unknown number appeared on the screen. It wasn’t the one Crowley used, but something told Dean not to answer it anyway. He ignored the feeling.

“Hello Darling,” said Crowley.

“I gave back the money,” said Dean. “What do you want?” 

“No need to snap,” said Crowley. “I just wanted to tell you to tell Castiel that if he doesn’t press charges, he will still receive his last paycheck.” 

“What?” 

“I assume you are in touch with him? He’s not answering my calls and this is a somewhat urgent bit of business.” 

“No.”

“Ah. Never mind then. Goodbye.”

“Why would he press charges?” asked Dean. He was met with silence. Crowley hung up.

Dean threw his phone into the seat beside him. A bizarre form of fight or flight kicked in. He pulled over again and retrieved the blanket from the trunk. He wrapped it around himself, returned to the car and headed back into town.

He pulled into Cas’ driveway half an hour later. The sun was just beginning to rise. The porch light was out. Dean could see glass on the ground. He gripped the blanket around his waist and got out. He approached the house. When he knocked on the door, it swung open. He went inside and shut the door behind him.

The house was trashed. The couch where he’d slept last night was ripped open, cushions gutted. The table was over turned. There were papers and broken bits of Cas’ life strewn all over the floor. 

“Castiel,” called Dean. He stalked his way to the kitchen and found the broken leg of a chair. “Cas, you in here?” He clutched the blanket with one hand and held the chair leg like a bat.

He crept further into the house. The bathroom door was shut. Dean re-situated the blanket so he could try the knob. It was locked. He banged on the door. “Cas? Are you in there?”

No answer.

He hit the door harder and called again. Still no answer. 

He took a few steps back, hoping he could gain enough momentum in the hallway, and slammed his body, shoulder first, into the door. 

The lock snapped from the frame and the door swung open. Dean tumbled into the bathroom. He had one hand back on the blanket and a death grip on the chair leg. It took him a minute to process both what he’d done and what he was seeing. 

The room reeked of pot and was filled with a combination of smoke and steam.

Cas sat up in his bathtub, eyebrows raised in alarm. He removed a large pair of headphones and let them fall on the tile floor. His phone sat on the edge of the tub connected to the other end of the headset. He held a joint in his fingers above the water. 

“Hello, Dean,” said Cas. His face was various shades of blue and purple. His lip was split and one eye was almost swollen shut. He had a nasty cut across his shoulder and his chest was peppered with bruises. Despite his injuries, he frowned when he looked at Dean. “Did Crowley do that?” he asked.

“Do what?” asked Dean.

 “Your face,” answered Cas.

“Oh,” said Dean, his memory kicking back into gear, “no, he didn’t. What happened to you?”

Cas shrugged. “Crowley was convinced I stole from him. Which is technically true, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry,” said Dean. Crowley obviously beat the shit out of Cas, convinced the money was with him. “I gave it back to him.”

Cas tilted his head.

“I had to,” said Dean. “He contacted my family. He sent my brother a clip of us—of what we did.” Dean shook his head. “I’m sorry. I had to make it stop.” 

Cas blinked. “Dean,” he said slowly, “are you wearing a blanket?”

Dean’s face burned. “Oh. Um, yeah.” 

“Are you wearing anything else?”

Dean shook his head. 

“Dean,” said Cas again, “blankets are not clothes.”

“Yeah, I know that,” said Dean. “How high are you? Did you hotbox your bathroom?”

Cas shook his head. “This is a bathroom, not a box.” He held the joint out to Dean. “Hit?” 

Dean sighed. “Sure.” He approached the tub and took note of Cas’ injuries. The bath water was clear with a slight pink tint. He was marked from head to toe. Dean assumed the pink in the water meant Cas was bleeding. He took the joint and held it. “You’re bleeding,” he said. 

“I’ve stopped bleeding,” corrected Cas. 

Dean eyed the cut to his shoulder.

Cas followed his gaze. “It was that and my nose. It’s broken. My nose, not my shoulder.” 

“Shouldn’t you set it or something?” asked Dean. 

“I’ll tend to it later.” He squinted. “Who hit you?” 

“My dad,” muttered Dean.

“Ah. Your father saw the clip Crowley sent your brother?” 

“So you are paying attention.”

“Of course,” said Cas. “This is very serious.” He glanced around the room. “I suppose the setting is wrong.” He frowned. “If you’re not going to smoke it, give it back.” 

Dean returned the joint. 

Cas took another hit. “I’m going to get out of the bath. Turn around, or don’t, but consider yourself warned either way.”

Dean turned around and stood in the doorway. He heard a splash, then the sound of the water draining. 

“I’m covered,” said Cas. “If that’s what you’re waiting for.” 

Dean turned around. Cas had a towel wrapped around his waist and he’d put out the joint. 

“Would you like to continue this conversation in the bedroom, living room or kitchen?” Cas asked. “May I suggested the living room, as it is the least fucked up at the moment.”

“Living room it is,” said Dean. 

“After you.”

When they reached the living room, Cas flopped down onto the ruined couch. Blood trickled from the inside of his nose. 

Dean went back to the bathroom and retrieved a box of tissues. He handed it to Cas.

Cas looked from Dean to the tissues. “Thank you,” he said. He held them in his lap. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Your nose is bleeding again.” 

“Oh, right.” Cas tilted his head forward and dabbed at this face. “So,” he said, voice slightly muffled, “Your father hit you.” 

“Yeah.”

“Is there more to that story?”

“Not really.”

“I assume then,” said Cas, “there also isn’t a story behind you breaking down my bathroom door wearing nothing but a blanket.”

Dean sighed. He took a seat next to Cas on the couch, careful to avoid a spring sticking out of the end section. 

“You can tell me later,” said Cas.

“Yeah,” said Dean. “Maybe later. What did they do to you?”

Cas half shrugged. “Alastair seemed to think kicking me and destroying my belongings would magically produce the missing money. Shockingly, he was wrong.”

Dean held a hand over his stomach. “Did he—what did he do to you? Did he h-hurt you?” Hurt wasn’t the right word. Yes, clearly Alastair hurt him. Dean couldn’t ask his real question.

Cas tilted his head to the side. Dean couldn’t maintain eye contact. He pulled the blanked around his shoulders and stared at his lap. 

“He threw a few punches,” said Cas. “Crowley and Naomi searched the house. It was over quickly.” 

The amount of bruising on Cas’ body told a different story. “Why didn’t you tell them I took the money when I left?” asked Dean.

“Crowley insisted he was looking for _his_ money,” answered Cas. “The money you took was yours. I have no idea why he thought he’d find _his_ money at _my_ house.”

“Dude,” said Dean, “Semantics? Really? That’s where you took your stand?” 

“I’ve stood for less,” answered Cas, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

Dean shook his head. “Where’s your first aid kit?” 

“It’s either on the dresser in my room or somewhere on the floor,” he answered.

Dean stood and went to Cas’ room. The kit was on the floor partially open. He collected the scattered contents and headed back to Cas.


	10. Guns n' blankets

On his way back to the living room he saw Cas had moved to the kitchen. 

“What are you doing?” asked Dean. 

Cas was rummaging through a cabinet above the microwave. He pulled a large plank of wood out, which looked suspiciously like the bottom of the cabinet. “Supplies,” answered Cas. He retrieved a sizable rectangular black bag and shook it at Dean. “If they’d spent less time bothering me and more time searching, they might have actually found something worth while,” he said. 

“You’re just all kinds of prepared, aren’t you,” said Dean. 

“The word you’re looking for is paranoid,” said Cas. He grabbed an ice pack and a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. He returned to the living room and Dean followed. Cas began unpacking the contents of the bag. It was full of pill bottles. “Does your face hurt?” asked Cas. 

“Not really,” answered Dean. It hurt, but it wasn’t unfamiliar pain. John usually avoided hitting him in the face. The bruises were too visible. Marks sustained to his back and stomach usually cleared up after a week or two. 

Cas grabbed a tube of something from the first aid kit. “Come here,” he said. “This will help.” 

“Let’s patch you up first,” said Dean. “No offense, but you look like hell.” He took the tube from Cas’ hand and read the instructions. It was some kind of generic antibiotic. “This can go on your should, right?” he asked. 

Cas squinted. “Yes.” 

Dean took one of the disposable gloves from the kit, assuming it was necessary to avoid cross contamination or something. He found opened a small packet containing a wet wipe and dabbed at the wound. He gave it a moment to dry, then squeezed ointment onto his fingertips and rubbed it carefully over the cut. 

Cas sat up straight, suddenly very still and he watched Dean with a look of amusement mixed with intrigue. 

Dean grabbed a gauze pad and tapped it over the wound. He scanned Cas’ body for other injuries he could treat. 

“Just bruises,” said Cas. “I’ll heal.” 

“What about your nose?” 

Cas held up the bag of peas. “These are for my face, and this,” he handed Dean the icepack, “is for yours.” He grabbed a cotton swab from the box and before Dean could protest, Cas squeezed ointment onto the tip, smeared it quickly over Dean’s cheek and applied a bandage. He sat back and held the bag of vegetables against his nose.

“Thanks,” muttered Dean. He followed suit and held the icepack against face.

“He hurt you often,” said Cas. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Dean. “Same way you don’t want to talk about what really happened to you.” 

Cas sighed. “Please give me your hand.” 

“Why?”

“I want to say something and I’d like to sound as sincere as possible.”

“It already sounds like a lie.”

“All right, then I’ll just say it,” said Cas. “Crowley, Alastair and Naomi came into my home. Crowley and Naomi began searching my things. Alastair challenged me and I fought back. Obviously he won. He’s larger than I am, but I like to think I did a decent amount of damage. I grabbed a knife. He took it from me, gave me the cut you just bandaged, broke my nose, then Crowley called him off. That’s it.” He searched Dean’s eyes, presumably to see if he was listening. “We fought. It was unpleasant. But that’s all that happened.” 

Dean bit his lip. “I’m sorry I left without telling you.” He should have told him. They were partners in crime. He should have left the money with Cas. He shouldn’t have panicked. He always panicked first. John was right to keep him from Sam. Dean wasn’t any use in a crisis. If he’d stopped, talked to Cas, called Sam back, they probably could have come up with a plan and Cas wouldn’t have been attacked. If Dean hadn’t slept through Crowley’s calls, Cas wouldn’t have been attacked. 

“Dean.” 

He looked up at the other man. 

“This wasn’t your fault,” said Cas. “I wasn’t abused. I’ve looked better, that’s certainly true, but this damage is cosmetic, I will heal, and it wasn’t your fault.” 

Dean shifted a little further away from Cas. It was nice to hear that something wasn’t his fault; too nice. He couldn’t risk getting accustomed to hearing it or he’d crave absolution for all his mistakes. 

“You’re not responsible,” said Cas. “Do you understand that?”

_Of course I am._

“Yeah,” answered Dean.

“Are you, at any point, going to explain why you’re not wearing any clothes?” 

Dean leaned back against the couch. “I threw a fit in a grocery store parking lot. I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense. I just didn’t want to wear those clothes anymore.” He had no idea how much of the story Cas was piecing together. Dean knew he wasn’t giving him much to work with.

Cas didn’t pry. He stretched and yawned. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. I realize it’s technically morning, but I don’t have a schedule to adhere to. Can I assume you are also tired?” 

Dean nodded.

“My bedroom is a mess, as you may have noticed, but my mattress is still in good shape. I’ll take the couch.”

“I’ll take the couch,” said Dean. “You’re worse off than I am.”

_Sleep together. You’ve done it before. It doesn't have to be his idea._

“Thank you, but no. Although,” he mused, “the air mattress might still be in one piece. I’ll check.” He stood, swayed, then wandered down the hall. He returned a moment later carrying an electric pump and an armful of deflated mattress. “I’ll take this, you take the bed.”

“It’s not safe to sleep out here,” muttered Dean. “We can share a room. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Are you comfortable with that?” 

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t comfortable with it.” 

“All right then.” Cas retreated to the bedroom.

Dean allowed himself a moment to settle the sudden flutter of nerves in his stomach, then followed. He examined the bedroom door. “This has a hollow core,” he said.

“Is that significant?” asked Cas.

“It’s easier to break down.”

“They’re not coming back,” said Cas, “and if they do, I’ll shoot them.” He nodded to the gun sitting on the floor beside him. Dean never even saw him retrieve it. “I’ll sleep between you and the door,” continued Cas.

“Ok,” said Dean. “I’ll watch the window.” 

“Or I could board up the window, sleep between you and the door and you could sleep peacefully knowing we are well protected.” 

“We’re not well protected,” said Dean. “We’re targets. And if you were so well protected, how’d they manage to get the drop on you earlier.”

“Oh,” said Cas, “I see. You think they broke in.”

“Didn’t they?” 

“No, I let them in.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

“Because I had nothing to hide,” answered Cas. “And it’s amusing to watch Crowley bluster and make threats and still leave empty-handed.”

“That’s,” Dean began, “I don’t know. That’s weird.” 

Cas shrugged and hooked the electric pump into the air mattress. He wandered over to the dresser while it inflated. He retrieved an armful of clothes from the draws and picked up a few things that had been thrown on the floor. He handed the bundle to Dean. “In case you want to change out of your blanket,” he said.

He grabbed a few other articles of clothing from the floor and left. Dean assumed it was to give him time to change. Dean slipped into Cas’ clothes for the second time. He felt cleaner, but weaker. He pulled his blanked back around his shoulders. When Cas returned, he'd traded his towel for pajamas. 

“I’ll take the air mattress,” said Dean.

“No.” 

“Yes. I saw your bruises. Your ribs might be broken or cracked. I don’t know, but it looked like he hit you pretty hard.”

“No,” repeated Cas. “Besides, I’ll have a better vantage point from the floor.” He nodded toward his gun. 

Dean huffed. He marched out of the room and grabbed his keys. He went outside and opened the trunk of the Impala and retrieved his rifle. He locked the car, went back inside, locked the door and returned to the bedroom. 

Cas didn’t so much as blink when Dean entered the room with the gun. He was already curled up in the center of the air mattress, pillow tucked under his head, wrapped up in a fluffy comforter. 

“Fine,” muttered Dean. He pulled the door shut and locked it.

“I appreciate your concern,” said Cas. “But I am the one with the medical degree. I’m fairly certain I know what’s best.” 

“You’re also the one with a death wish,” said Dean. 

“I don’t have a death wish, Dean.” 

“Sure you don’t.” Dean crawled into bed above Cas. The mattress slowly gave way to his weight. He hadn’t noticed it before. “Is this memory foam?” asked Dean.

“Yes.” Cas rolled over, his back to Dean. “If you wake up before me this time, I’d prefer it if you wouldn’t leave without letting me know.” 

“Ok,” answered Dean. He set the rifle on the floor between the bed and the window. One day to rest, then he’d leave. He couldn’t stay in town. John wouldn’t want that. He just needed to rest, get some of his energy back then he’d be ready to go.

He fell asleep trying to remember how much money he had left in his bank account.


	11. Precipice

Dean woke up to the smell of bacon and coffee sometime around noon. He checked his phone, no calls, no texts. He took a chance and tried calling the last number that called him. No service. John must not have wasted time in removing Dean from the plan. 

He sat up and rearranged his blanket so it draped over his shoulders. The air mattress was vacant which meant the noise must be Cas cooking in the kitchen. After a minute, he convinced himself to get out of bed. He made it to the door before he remembered his gun, and retrieved it from beside the bed.

Cas was standing on a chair waving a dishtowel at a smoke detector when Dean entered the kitchen.

Dean coughed. “What did you do?” He leaned his gun against the wall.

Cas frowned and glanced over his shoulder. “Did I leave the stove on?”

Dean rushed to the stove and turned off not one, but two forgotten burners. The bacon was already on a plate and appeared to be more or less edible. The coffee was still brewing on the counter. Dean had no idea why the second burner was on. 

Cas climbed down from the chair. He coughed and grabbed his side, wincing. 

Dean made a silent note about a possibly broken rib. “So this is how you make breakfast,” he said. 

“I’d intended to make eggs as well,” said Cas. 

“How about you sit down and I’ll make eggs.” 

“Only if you feel like it,” said Cas. He brushed past Dean on the way to the coffee pot. 

Dean’s body decided to flinch without explaining why to his mind. 

“Apologies,” muttered Cas. 

Dean’s mind decided to pretend it didn’t happen. Dean went to the refrigerator and pulled out eggs and butter. “Scrambled ok with you?” he asked.

“Yes,” answered Cas. “Cream and sugar in your coffee?” 

“Black,” answered Dean. 

Cas made a face and poured a copious amount of sugar into a second mug. Dean grabbed a pan and Cas handed him his untarnished cup of coffee.

The kitchen was in better shape than it was the day before. Cas must have attempted to clean up before cooking. The table was standing. One chair survived and Cas had replaced the other with a stool. 

Dean glanced over his shoulder. Cas was perched on the stool sipping his coffee and watching Dean. 

“I’ll help you clean things up after breakfast,” said Dean. 

“No need,” he said. “I’ve called in a favor. A cleaning crew will be tomorrow morning.” 

“You called in a favor to a cleaning crew?” 

“To my brother,” said Cas. He shifted in his seat and winced. Then he seemed to realize Dean was watching and tried to mask his expression with a curt smile. “He has the money to pay people to do the things he doesn’t want to do himself.” 

“That’s nice,” said Dean. He agitated the eggs with the spatula. “Does he know about Crowley?” 

“No,” answered Cas. “I told him someone broke in and made a mess. He didn’t ask for details.” 

“That’s probably for the best,” said Dean. He watched Cas clutch his side as he lifted his coffee to drink. “What would I have to do,” began Dean, “to convince you to sit in the damn chair instead of trying to balance on the stool with your coffee and a broken rib?” 

Cas blinked at him over the rim of his mug. He took too long to respond.

“Move,” said Dean. He gestured to the chair with his spatula. 

“I’m perfectly com—” 

“Save it,” said Dean. He removed the pan from the stove and plated the eggs. “We’ll eat in the living room. Then we can both sit on the couch and you can stop being polite or whatever it is you’re doing.” 

Cas blinked at him again. 

“Dude, go,” said Dean. “Living room. I’ll meet you there. I know where it is.” 

Cas squinted. He examined Dean and seemed to have some kind of silent argument with himself. Finally, he acquiesced and took his coffee to the living room.

Dean was pretty sure there was some rule somewhere about not bossing people around in their own homes, but he felt like an exception should be made for Cas.

Dean carried the food into the living room first and set the dishes on the coffee table. He returned with silverware, plates, napkins and his cup. He served Cas first then made a plate for himself. “You want anything else?” asked Dean.

“No,” answered Cas. “Thank you.” 

“Welcome,” answered Dean.

“Thank you for cooking, too,” said Cas. 

“Welcome.” 

“And I suppose I should thank you for arriving in the kitchen when you did.” He was staring at Dean again. 

“Lucky I woke up when I did,” said Dean. 

Cas nodded and tilted his head to the side. “I was thinking about tomorrow morning,” he said. “I don’t particularly want to be here while there are people wandering around the house. I have reserved a hotel room.” 

“That’s a good idea.” Dean shoveled eggs into his mouth.

“I reserved a room with two beds,” said Cas. “If you are inclined to come with me.”

Dean swallowed and looked to the other man. 

“Of course, you’re not obligated to stay with me,” said Cas quickly. “I didn’t mean to assume—I just thought—the way you arrived—I suppose I did assume.” He frowned and his cheeks turned pink. 

Something screamed inside of Dean. Something hot and dark told him not to accept the invitation. Something warned him against becoming indebted to this man. Something snapped when he realized he already owed Cas more than he could ever repay.

“Is that,” began Cas, “was that wrong? Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned it. But I think I’m right in guessing you have nowhere to go. Presumably your next move would be to sleep in your car and yes, I see you’re armed and capable of taking care of yourself, but you shouldn’t have to. I’d rather you stay with me.”

Cas shook his head. “Not that you have to stay. I don’t know how to say this without sounding ‘creepy.’” He actually put the last word in air-quotes as though he’d been accused of being “creepy” before. 

Dean must have taken too long to answer because Cas spoke again. 

“Please stay, but only if you want to,” he said. His cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. “I hope I’m not over-stepping.”

“You, um,” said Dean, searching for the rest of his sentence, “you don’t have to take care of me.”

“I don’t mean to insult your ability to care for yourself,” said Cas.

“You didn’t,” said Dean. “I guess I don’t get why you care.” 

“I’d be a monster if I didn’t.” 

Dean saw it, a flicker of something; most likely pity, in Cas’ eyes. He set his plate on the table, appetite gone. He held onto his coffee cup to keep himself from fidgeting. Why wouldn’t Cas pity him? He’d only seen Dean at his most vulnerable, most helpless. Cas thought he was responsible for him the way someone becomes responsible for an injured animal found alone in the cold. Dean was helpless. Cas saw it.

Cas cleared his throat. “I understand if you’re uncomfortable, of course. I’m gay. You’re straight. I know you might have reservations—especially considering the circumstances—but you are safe with me. I would never hurt you.” 

He saw something again behind Cas’ eyes, but the emotion morphed. It was deeper than pity and it wasn’t aimed at Dean and that fact alone made Dean want to hunt it down and drag it into the light. 

Cas broke away from his stare and took a sip of coffee.

“I believe that,” said Dean. It was like standing on a ledge with the wind whipping by so quickly he couldn’t hear or feel or think. Cas wasn’t asking him to take a step forward. He wasn’t asking Dean to jump. He wasn’t behind Dean waiting to push him. They were standing side by side on the precipice and Dean knew if Cas leapt, he would follow. They were doomed to fall together.

The only way out was to leave now. Dean could set his cup on the table, collect his few belongings, return what he’d borrowed, and leave. The only way to avoid the jump and subsequent fall was to leave Cas behind.

Cas glanced at him, a flicker of blue eyes, then they returned to the shadows of his lashes. Something in Dean ached. His chest burned. His heart stopped beating.

He took a sip of coffee. “What time is check-in?” he asked.

“Three,” answered Cas.

“Do you have a safe or something for your collection of illegal crap?” asked Dean.

“I plan to take my illegal crap with me,” said Cas. His face slowly regained some of its normal color.

“Let me pack my blanket and my rifle and I’ll be ready to go,” said Dean.

Cas grinned and finally looked at him again. “Would you like to take my car, yours or both?” 

“Mine.”

“All right.” Cas picked up his plate and began eating again. 

Dean’s stomach growled and he remembered he was hungry.


	12. Hotel and a Movie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up...brief homophobic language off the port bow

It wasn’t until Cas put his suitcases into the backseat of the Impala that Dean realized he needed to buy clothes. They stopped at a store on the way to the hotel. Dean bought a random assortment of clothing, some basic toiletries and a pair of boots. His feet were currently crammed into a pair of Cas’ shoes.

Dean carried his bag from the store and the suitcase containing Cas’ clothes. Cas carried his bag of illegal crap. They left Dean’s gun in the trunk of the car, but took Cas’ handgun just in case.

They carried their belongings up to a room on the top floor of the building. Dean claimed the bed by the window at the same time Cas claimed the bed by the door. Cas pulled out his first aid kit while Dean placed the “do not disturb” hanger on the door handle outside. Dean locked the deadbolt then peered through the peephole to see how much visibility they had from inside the room. Satisfied, he returned to his bed stretched out and closed his eyes.

He must have fallen asleep. When he opened his eyes again it was dark and Cas was asleep in the other bed. 

Dean rolled over and closed his eyes. The room was too hot. He kicked away from the covers and lay exposed until he was suddenly shivering. He untangled his blanket from the hotel sheets and pulled it around himself. He sat up and glanced at the phone beside the bed.

 _Don’t._  

He looked at the alarm clock instead. It was midnight. He scrubbed a hand over his face. A shower. He needed a shower. He collected his things and crossed the room quietly. He shut the bathroom door and stared at the handle. He bit his lip. After a moment of inner debate, he locked it. 

The water felt good; calming. He was in a small bright room and he was clean, or at least he would be soon. More than cleanliness, he appreciated that no one could hide from him in here. The door was locked. There were no cabinets or closets or dark spaces where shadows could lurk and lunge.

He peered around the shower curtain every few minutes to make sure the door was still locked. He exhaled and hung his head under the spray of the shower. The water beat down against his neck and back. He closed his eyes. 

He was with Cas now. Cas was too kind and responsible to turn him away. Dean would have to leave eventually. He couldn’t stay with Cas forever. He looked down at the floor of the shower and crossed his arms. 

A few days might not be too long. Cas was injured and, despite his protests, he needed someone to look after him. Dean could do that. It would justify his stay. Cas couldn’t cook. Once they returned to the house, Dean could take over cooking. He owed Cas something.

Two or three days. He nodded to himself. Two or three days to find a job, pick a new city, do what he could repay Cas, and prepare for a new life.

He’d be more careful about job-hunting this time. He could do a few manual labor tasks to make ends meet until he found something steady. If it paid enough, he could set aside money and figure out a way to get it to Sam. 

Sam would get to Stanford whether John wanted him to or not. Sam had his heart set on the university since he started high school and Sam was stubborn. He’d make it happen. If Sam could get accepted and leave John, Dean could help him the rest of the way. 

 _Anonymously. He can’t know._  

Dean chewed on his bottom lip. Maybe there was a scholarship fund he could donate to, or create—something he could be sure Sam would be awarded. Did it work like that?

He ran his hands through his hair and leaned against the shower wall. How much money would it take to support himself and secretly help Sam? He needed to know how much rent would cost him first. He slid down and sat with his knees pulled into his chest, trying to keep as much of his body under the water as possible. 

He knew a lot about cars, but he didn’t have any certifications. Did he need that? Would someone hire him anyway? Could he use Bobby as a reference? Would that count as contacting him? 

He shook his head. Bobby wouldn’t work. Whoever called would give away Dean’s new location—wherever that happened to be. 

He slumped forward and let his forehead fall against his knees. 

Midnight. 

Sam had probably just gone to his room. He’d stay up and read for another hour or two.

He wondered what Sam did yesterday when he found out Dean was gone. Was it yesterday? It seemed longer. What was the last thing they’d said to each other? Did he tell Sam “good night?” 

It didn’t matter. Sam’s last impression of Dean was cemented with the video from Crowley. Sam seemed worried at first, but once he understood—once John explained his version of what happened, Sam wouldn’t care anymore.

Dean was dirty now. He needed to remember that. He needed to remember what Alastair did and that Dean had let it happen; had asked for it to happen.

He stared at the white shower wall. He needed to remember. It was the only way to keep himself away from Sam and staying away was the only way to keep Sam safe.

Unless John started hurting Sam, too. Without Dean, who would stand between them when Sam was angry and John was drunk? 

 _That’s an excuse. You can’t go back._ _John loves Sam. He’ll be fine. He’ll be in college soon. He doesn’t need you. No one needs you._

A loud thud shook Dean’s thoughts. Someone was banging on the door, calling his name.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he called. He stood and started to rinse the soap from his skin before remembering he’d never actually bathed.

_Fuck it._

He turned the water off, stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He opened the door to find Cas pacing in the small entryway of the room.

Cas’ eyes snapped to Dean’s body as soon as the door opened and he stood still. “Are you all right?” He scanned Dean from head to toe, frowning the entire time.

“Yeah, sorry,” said Dean. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Cas released a breath and he clutched his side.

“Hurts to breathe?” asked Dean.

“Why didn’t you answer me?” asked Cas.

“I did. I said give me a minute.”

“Before that.”

“Before when?”

“I was calling for you and I knocked. Didn’t you hear me?”

“No.” Dean shrugged. “My bad.”

“Your eyes are red. What happened?”

Dean touched his face. Shit. Had he been crying again? “I got soap in my eyes,” he said.

Cas clenched his jaw. “But you’re all right?”

“Yeah.” He felt his eyes stinging now.

 _Fucking bitch._  

“Dean.” Cas stared at him.

There was something about the way Cas said his name. It wasn’t a command or a threat or a warning. He said it like it was a spell that would grant him access to Dean’s soul.

It almost worked, but Dean bit his tongue and screamed in his mind until it drowned out all other thoughts. He felt his emotions ebb away with each breath he took. He looked Cas in the eyes and shrugged again. “What?” he asked. 

Cas’ lip almost shivered. “Nothing,” he answered. “I thought something was wrong. I panicked. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your shower.”

Dean let it go. He couldn’t chase whatever emotion Cas was trying to hide without losing grip on his own. “Do you need the bathroom?” he asked. 

Cas shook his head. “No, thank you.” 

“Good. Pretty sure I still have shampoo in my hair.”

“I’ll go back to bed. I’m sorry, again, for disturbing you." 

Cas left and Dean shut the door. He turned the water on again and deliberately reminded himself to pick up the soap and bathe. 

* * *

They left the hotel in the afternoon. Cas had scheduled a late checkout. They ate at a café down the road. The cleaning crew would not be done until five. They had a few more hours to kill so Cas suggested they go see a movie.

In line for popcorn they apparently stood too close together, because a man behind them kept whispering to the woman standing with him. The second time Dean heard the man say “faggots” he spun around, grabbed Cas’ hand and stepped into the man’s space. 

“Shut the fuck up,” said Dean, “or I will beat the ever-loving shit out of you in front of the whole fucking theater.”

Cas squeezed his hand and moved closer to his side. “Alternatively,” he said, “you could just shut up and we could end this without causing a scene and inevitably involving law enforcement.”

The man had dark hair and a scruffy, haggard face. He appeared to be in his late 40s. He glared at them. Just as he opened his mouth, Dean made a fist and prepared to swing. Cas must have sensed the potential fight. He pulled his hand from Dean’s and slipped his arm around Dean’s waist.

“There are children present,” said Cas, nodding to the families wandering through the lobby. “We should at least attempt the pretense of civility.” 

The man gritted his teeth and Dean felt his mind teeter. How many times had John given him that look? The longer Dean stared, the more the man in front of him began to change. He already resembled John. It wasn’t hard to imagine. It wouldn’t be hard to pretend the body he was attacking belonged to his father. 

Cas pulled him closer, ever so slightly. 

Finally, the woman tugged on the man’s hand and pulled him away to stand in line at another cash register. 

Dean watched them leave. Cas had to force him to turn around. When he started to pull his arm away, Dean slipped his arm around Cas’ waist to stop him.

“Let’s leave,” whispered Cas.

“He can leave,” snapped Dean. “We’re not going anywhere.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Cas didn’t argue. He ordered popcorn and drinks and shoved Dean’s hand away when he tried to pay. They had to release each other to carry their items and tickets, but Dean stayed close to Cas, actively keeping less than a foot between them.

The man glared from the corner of his eye as they left the lobby and Dean stared him down. Cas herded him toward the theater. 

They took their seats and as soon as Cas hand was free again, Dean grabbed it. He watched the entrance to the theater, but the man didn’t appear during the previews. He was nowhere to be seen by the time the film began. He must have picked a different movie.

Cas’ voice was soft and low when he leaned over and whispered to Dean. “We can still leave.” 

“Fuck that,” hissed Dean. He was still glaring at the walkway, though he was suddenly aware that Cas was rubbing his thumb against the back of his hand. 

Dean’s focus snapped and his need for vigilance subsided so quickly it made him woozy. He turned and saw Cas watching him in the dark. He finally registered the sound of the movie. He felt himself breathe again.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” whispered Cas. He leaned in close and Dean could barley hear him.

“Do what?” whispered Dean. 

“Defend me. Pretend we were a couple.”

Dean opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“The point is, I appreciate it,” said Cas. “I thought you should know that.”

Dean couldn’t find an appropriate response, so he nodded instead of speaking. He shifted in his seat to sit closer to Cas. They watched the rest of the movie in silence, still holding each other’s hands.


	13. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this update overdue? It feels overdue...also I haven't forgotten about Free to a Good Home (if you're reading) just working on some plot points.

When they arrived home, the place was spotless. The cleaning company left a card by the door and a note encouraging Cas to call if he needed them again.

The broken furniture was gone and most of it had been replaced with new stuff. The crew had gotten rid of the pot smell. There was even a vase full of fresh flowers on the coffee table. 

Dean went to inspect the new couch, but Cas held him back. “Wait,” he said softly.

Dean tensed and immediately began searching for something to use as a weapon. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t order furniture.” 

“That’s not part of the service?”

Cas squinted and tilted his head at him.

“I figured it was some kind of rich-guy cleaning deal,” said Dean. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“People do not just give you furniture, Dean.” 

“I told you, I thought it was a rich-guy thing. You said your brother’s got money, right?” 

“Yes.” Cas huffed. “I suppose you’re not entirely wrong. I suspect this was his doing.” He frowned at the room. “It seems he took a more hands-on approach than I’d anticipated.” 

Something clanked in the kitchen. 

Dean flinched. 

“Dammit,” muttered Cas. He headed to the kitchen and Dean followed quickly behind him.

A man stood at the sink. He was rinsing a cup. The room smelled like coffee. “You didn’t even check to make sure it was me,” said the man. “I could have been an intruder.” 

“You are an intruder,” growled Cas. 

The man resembled Cas, but was older, maybe in his late thirties, taller and slightly more muscular. His hair was cut much shorter than Cas’ but it was also dark and they had the same permanent crease in the center of their brow.

“Rude,” said the man. “Especially considering all I’ve done for you today.” 

“I assume that’s why you felt entitled to stick around,” said Cas.

The man rolled his eyes. “I stuck around because you said someone broke into your home and I wanted to make sure you were all right.” His eyes fell to Dean. “I didn’t know you had _company_.” 

Dean straightened his back and stood a little taller. If one more person insulted Cas tonight he wasn’t sure he’d be able to restrain himself. The body language between the two men told him everything he needed to know. Cas didn’t want this man in his house and the man had no intention of leaving. Potential brother or not, Dean was ready to fight. 

“I’m fine,” said Cas. “You can go. Thank you for your help. I am no doubt forever in your debt.” 

“I thought we could chat,” said the man. “It’s been a while.” He looked to Dean again. “Unless your friend charges by the hour. Then I can understand the urgency.” 

Cas almost lost it. Dean saw him lurch forward, re-center himself, clench his jaw and firmly plant both feet.

“I see your temper has marginally improved,” said the man. “I’ll be sure to tell Mom therapy paid off after all.” He shook the water from the cup in his hand and dried it with a cloth from the counter. “I’m Michael,” he said, this time deliberately addressing Dean, “since my brother has neglected to introduce us. I’m not sure if he’s more reluctant for you to meet me or for me to meet you.”

“I’m Dean, and if Cas doesn’t like you, I don’t like you.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Michael made a face and looked back at Cas. “He’s not your boyfriend is he? Please tell me this mess,” he gestured around the space, “wasn’t because you fell for another junkie.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” growled Cas, “nor is he a junkie. And none of that is any of your business.” 

Michael shook his head. “Then you’re the junkie. Again.” He placed the cup in the cabinet above the counter. “I knew it as soon as you called. Who do you owe, for what and how much?” 

“So you didn’t stick around to check on me,” said Cas. “You just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t call again needing something else.”

“You will always call again,” said Michael. “You will always need something else.” 

Cas’ fists twitched at his sides.

Michael sighed. “Come home. Let us help you.”

“I don’t want to discuss this right now,” said Cas. 

“You forfeited that right when you made this my problem.”

“I just needed a loan,” said Cas. “I told you I’d pay you back.”

Dean stepped forward and turned his back to Michael so only Cas could see his face. “I can make him leave,” he said. 

Cas shook his head. “He’ll get tired and wander off eventually.” 

“Are you two conspiring over there?” asked Michael. “Fine. I’ll leave.” He approached the doorway where they were standing. 

Cas pulled Dean to the side to let Michael pass. 

Michael eyed Cas. “You look like shit,” he said. “Both of you. I know you hate me—us—but we could help you. Remember you’re choosing to live this way.” 

“I’ll repay the loan,” said Cas. 

“Don’t bother,” said Michael. He took a last look at Dean, then left, closing the front door a little harder than necessary. 

Cas fumbled in his pockets and quickly withdrew a small capsule. 

“What the fuck was that about?” asked Dean. 

Cas shook two blue pills into his hand. “Would you like one?”

Dean shook his head, not entirely sure what Cas was offering, though it looked familiar. 

Cas retrieved the cup Michael had used and filled it with water. He took both pills, drank the water, then threw the cup in the garbage. 

“Do I get to know what just happened?” asked Dean. 

“Only if you’re ready to explain your naked blanket escapade,” answered Cas.

Dean considered the offer. “Not really,” he said finally. It wasn’t worth trading stories. Dean would be gone in a few days. The more he knew, the harder it would be to leave. He realized he should probably share that information with Cas. He might want Dean to leave sooner. 

“On another note,” said Dean, “I was thinking I’d hang around for a few more days. Do some chores and stuff while you heal. I can cook and clean and if your car needs work, I can take a look at it. Or I can leave sooner.” 

“How many days is a few?” asked Cas. “Is it fixed at two or do you mean that in a more nebulous sense?” 

“Two,” answered Dean. 

Cas turned away from him and opened the refrigerator. He retrieved a beer, opened it, handed it to Dean and then quickly brushed past him on the way to the living room. 

Dean followed him. 

“Make yourself at home,” said Cas. He went to a shelf full of DVDs. 

Dean shifted where he stood. He felt wrong. Something felt wrong. “I can leave sooner,” said Dean. 

“Two days is soon enough,” said Cas. He selected a movie and busied himself with the TV. “Try the couch,” he said, not bothering to turn around. “Let me know if it’s comfortable.” 

Cas wasn’t looking at him. Dean didn’t realize how often Cas made eye contact until now. Maybe it was because of Michael, or whatever pills Cas took. Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with Dean.

Cas turned around again. He glanced at Dean, then turned his focus to the couch. He sat without commenting on the fact that Dean was still standing. He leaned against the armrest and stared at the TV as the movie began. 

Dean sat down at the opposite end of the couch. He decided to guess which movie Cas had chosen instead of guessing what Cas was thinking. He took a long drink from his beer. 

When the title screen for the third Jurassic Park movie appeared, Cas spoke. “You mentioned chores,” he said. “You don’t have to earn your keep.” 

“I don’t mind,” said Dean. “But like I said, if two days is too long—” 

“It’s not,” said Cas. He still wasn’t looking at Dean. 

Dean sighed, took another drink and decided to push his luck. “Did I do something wrong? Things feel weird. Is it me or Michael or something else?”

“No,” he answered. “Things are not ‘weird.’”

“Come on, Cas. I’m dumb, but I’m not that dumb.” 

“You’re not dumb.”

“If you’re still pissed about family stuff, I totally get that. I’ll shut up,” said Dean, “but if it’s me, if I did something, I want to fix it.” 

Cas huffed. 

So it was Dean’s fault. “Did I overstep? I guess I shouldn’t have assumed I could stay.” 

Cas finally turned to him. He closed his eyes, then opened them again slowly. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Ignore me. I was being rude.” 

“Dude, talk to me,” said Dean. “I can leave now. It’s no—” 

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“Then what’s wrong?” 

“I don’t want you to leave.” He said it again, but slower. 

Dean was again on the cliff with the wind whipping around him. He knew he was too close to the edge. He felt the fall calling him. 

“I’m sorry,” said Cas. “I should have behaved better. Family visits have a habit of making me a generally unpleasant human being.” 

Dean knew what he was about to say was the wrong response, but his voice was faster than his brain. “I can’t stay,” he said. 

_It’s not because of him. Tell him that. Tell him he’s not the reason._

“Of course,” said Cas. “I understand.” He looked back at the TV. 

The truth was right there. He felt it like knot in the back of his throat. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t elaborate. He didn’t have enough control right now. If he started talking he’d never be able to regain control. The truth would burst like a flood and Dean couldn’t stand the thought of breaking again. He said nothing.


	14. Like a Flood

“Would you like another beer?” asked Cas. His voice was back to that unnatural clinical tone. 

Dean felt Cas step back from the ledge and suddenly he was alone. The knot in his throat dissolved into a silent scream. “Cas.” His voice cracked and Cas’ attention snapped to him.

Suddenly Cas was back beside him on the cliff and just as suddenly they began to fall.

“It’s not you,” said Dean, and goddammit, he was shaking again. “If I stay in town, I might run into my brother and I can’t—Dad doesn’t want me around him.” He clutched the bottle in his hand. “It’s not you,” Dean said again. “I want to stay, I really do, but I can’t.”

“Are you only staying away from your brother because your father asked you to?” asked Cas, the crease between his brows deepened.

“Yeah,” muttered Dean. It was too hot again. His heart was racing and his chest was tight. 

“Can I sit closer to you?” asked Cas. “Would that make you uncomfortable?” 

It was too hard to breathe and talk at the same time, so Dean motioned for him to come closer. Cas moved quickly and the sudden warmth at Dean’s side reminded him that he was on a couch in a living room; not falling. He was dizzy. He leaned back against the couch. 

Cas rested his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “It’s all right,” he said softly. “Nothing bad is going to happen if you talk about it.” 

Was he worried about that? Obviously nothing bad was going to happen. He was on a couch. In a living room. He closed his eyes and let his head lean against the cushion. 

“I miss him so fucking much,” whispered Dean. His chest seized, ached and became numb all at once. “I don’t even know if he’s ok.” It was too much. He’d never recover. 

He felt himself being gently tugged to the side. He followed the pull and found himself wrapped in Cas’ arms. 

“It’s ok,” said Cas. “It’s going to be ok.” 

Dean almost shoved him away. He should have shoved him. He should have moved. He wouldn’t survive the plunge. If he fell for kindness again there wouldn’t be enough of him left to put back together once he hit the ground. He wasn’t strong enough. He wasn’t strong; had never been strong. 

Cas’ voice called him back. He was running his fingers through Dean’s hair. Dean was crying. He knew it without feeling it. But then Cas’ voice cracked. 

“You don’t have to leave,” said Cas. “You’re safe here. I promise you.” 

Dean looked up. Cas was crying too. He curled his fingers into Cas’ shirt. “I can’t stay,” he whispered. 

“Yes you can,” said Cas. “We’ll figure it out. And if you want to see your brother again, we’ll figure that out as well.”

“He can’t see me like this,” said Dean. He searched Cas’ eyes, hoping he was making sense, hoping Cas understood. “He wouldn’t want to see me now that he knows.” 

“Knows what?” asked Cas.

Dean could almost feel Sam’s phone in his hand. He was standing outside of his home. Sam was watching him. Dean was watching the video. But it wasn’t just a video. Dean remembered how it felt to touch Cas like that, how it felt to be touched. 

There were too many hands on him. He was clammy, disgusting. He reeked of some unidentifiable odor. The stench consumed him. It was death and sweat and saliva; too many foul things rolled off of his body in waves. 

He pushed away from Cas. He was stupid for going back, for staying, for wanting to stay. It was going to happen again and he was going to let it happen. 

Cas was calling his name. 

Dean knew better than to ignore him. “Sorry,” he muttered. 

“I need to know what you’re thinking,” said Cas. “Can you do that? Can you talk to me?” 

“Yessir,” muttered Dean. He leaned further away from Cas, eyes cast down to the floor. 

“Dammit,” muttered Cas. He was angry. 

Dean braced himself.

“What happened after you left to give Crowley the money?” asked Cas. 

“I went home.”

“First? Or did you see Crowley first?”

“Home first.” 

“It’s all right,” said Cas. “Remember you’re safe here.” He muttered something to himself, then got up from the couch. He returned a moment later. “You’re shaking. Do you feel cold or hot?”

“Hot,” answered Dean. He glanced sideways and saw Cas had retrieved his trench coat.

“Ok,” said Cas. He held the coat across his lap. “What happened when you went home?”

Dean couldn’t answer. His voice didn’t work. His chest was too tight. Something was wrapped around his lungs, squeezing the air out of them. Something gripped his heart and stopped it from beating. Instead of pounding against his ribs, it ached, hollow and hungry.

It was the last time he saw Sam and he didn’t say goodbye. He’d never say goodbye. He’d never see him again. 

“Does your family know what happened to you?” asked Cas. 

Dean shook his head. Mercifully they didn’t know. They had no idea how weak he really was. 

“Remember when we did the breathing exercise in the bathroom?” asked Cas. “Can you do that again?” 

No, he didn’t remember. 

Cas started counting and telling him when to inhale and exhale. It took him a minute or two to match Cas’ pattern but he eventually did it. He didn’t remember leaning back into Cas’ arms, or letting Cas hold his hand. 

After a while his heart started beating again, or maybe it stopped pounding; the sensation was too difficult to name. He remembered where he was. On a couch. In a living room. 

Cas was running his fingers through Dean’s hair again, saying things like “you’re doing very well,” and “you’re safe” and “take your time.” 

He was distantly aware that Cas was waiting for the rest of the story. He couldn’t tell it. The rest of the story included Sam. 

“Crowley sent your brother a clip of what happened, right?” asked Cas. 

“Just of us,” murmured Dean. “Your face wasn’t even in it.” Cas was not Alastair or Crowley or Naomi. Dean forced that thought to take priority. 

“What did your brother say when he saw it?” 

Dean pulled away from Cas again, not because Cas was dangerous, but because he had to do this alone. He had to be able to remember Sam on his own. 

He covered his face with both hands. “He thought I was in trouble. He called me a bunch of times, left messages, texted me. I slept through it all.” Dean heard himself give Cas bits and pieces of the story, but not in the right order. He wasn’t sure any of it made sense. He told him about Crowley’s deal, the deadline, the consequence for missing the deadline, about Sam being worried and John knowing better than to be worried. Cas didn’t interrupt him until he got to the part where he returned the money. 

“You went back?” asked Cas. “Alone?” 

“Yeah,” answered Dean. It was easier to talk with his eyes closed. 

“Dammit, Dean, they could have killed you,” said Cas. “Did they hurt you? God dammit. I didn’t even check you again. I didn’t even ask.”

“They didn’t do anything,” said Dean. 

“I’m so sorry,” said Cas. “I was busy pitying myself instead of thinking about you. I should have made you talk to me when you came back. I wasn’t thinking. I just knew you were with me again, so you were safe.” 

“You asked what happened,” said Dean. “I just didn’t tell you.” 

“If I’d been sober I would have known better. I’m so sorry.” 

Dean peered at Cas through his fingers. 

“Jesus, what if you hadn’t come back? I never would have found you. Why did you come back?”

Why did he come back?

“Oh,” said Dean, “I forgot. Crowley called me before my phone got cut off. He wanted me to tell you if you didn’t press charges he’d send you your last paycheck.” 

“ _That_ brought you back?”

“He said ‘press charges.’ That usually means shit went down.” 

Cas squinted at him. “Did you come back to check on me or to deliver the message?” 

“To check on you,” said Dean. He let his hands slide from his face; felt himself coming back around. “I should have relayed the message sooner, but I forgot. But that’s not why I came back.” 

Cas shook his head. “I don’t know what to say to that. I thought you came back because you needed a place to stay.” He shook his head again. “But I had to convince you to stay. You were going to sleep in your car. I should have known better.” He tilted his head to the side and looked at Dean. 

“I was worried about you,” said Dean. “You saved me. The least I could do was come back here and check on you.”

“Thank you,” said Cas. “Wait, no, I don’t want to get sidetracked again.” He held up a hand. “You went home, your brother was worried, your father didn’t care, he hit you and made you leave after your brother went to bed. You returned the money then came back here. Is that right?”

“Yeah.”

“Where does your brother think you are now?” asked Cas. “If he thought you were in trouble before, won’t your absence imply you are in trouble again?”

“Dad told him I had a boyfriend and we ran off together,” muttered Dean. “He said he’d tell Sam the video was a joke or something.”

“That is insane,” said Cas. “Your father is a terrible person.” 

“He’s just trying to protect Sam. He wants to make sure he stays strong.” 

“No, Dean, he’s abusing you, not protecting Sam.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Has he ever hurt Sam? Do you know?”

“Never.” Dean said it louder than he intended. If John hurt Sam it meant Dean failed. 

“Is Sam safe? When did your father start hurting you?” 

“He didn’t start hitting me until high school,” answered Dean. Cas’ next line of questioning was predictable, so Dean saved him the trouble. “He caught me making out with this kid—a guy. I’m not straight.” He rubbed his face. “I knew better than to take the job with Crowley. Dad warned me years ago if he caught me with another guy he’d take Sam away.” He shrugged. “It’s my fault. I did this to myself.” 

A small, distant part of him knew it was true. He knew better than to get caught with another man. He knew he’d be forced to leave. He knew the only way he’d leave was if John made him and a wretched, selfish part of him had wanted to leave for years, but he’d never leave Sam. That was why Sam had to get to Stanford. Sam’s way out was Dean’s way out. But Dean got impatient. He forced John’s hand too soon and left Sam behind. 

Could Cas see that? If he could, surely he wouldn’t comfort Dean. He’d know Dean was something terrible and greedy. 

“Hey,” said Cas. “Stay here.” He waved a hand in front of Dean’s face. He deserved to know the truth before he wasted more of his kindness. 

“I think I wanted to get kicked out,” said Dean. “I mean, I know I did. I did it on purpose. I was too chicken shit to leave on my own and I didn’t want to wait for Sam. I left him on purpose.” 

“No,” said Cas. “Do you realize how much of what happened you would have needed to control in order to make that true?” 

“I knew the risk.” 

Cas shook his head. “You wanted to leave and get away from your father. I’m sure that’s true, any sane person would. But you didn’t orchestrate this elaborate catastrophe of coincidences to get kicked out. You are attempting to control a situation that is wild and unpredictable.”

He set a hand on Dean’s shoulder again. “It makes sense that you’d want to leave. It also makes sense that you wouldn’t want to wait for Sam. It makes sense that you’d want to separate from Sam, maybe not forever, but for a little while. Staying with Sam ensured your suffering and put him in control of your relief.”

The knot was back in Dean’s throat. He blinked at Cas.

“It even makes sense that you would resent him because you got hurt and he didn’t.”

Instead of his chest getting tight, it felt empty. Instead of lungs and a heart, there was a void. Cas saw it, the darkest part of him. 

“All of that can be true,” said Cas, “and it still doesn’t make this your fault.” He tilted his head. “Are you listening? Does that make sense?”

Cas was staring at him, seeing him for the coward he really was, and Cas wasn’t leaving. He was still on the couch with his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“When you start thinking this is your fault,” said Cas, “you also need to think about all the details you would have needed to know in advance. You are smart, but you are not psychic.”

Dean nodded. He could agree with that much. 

“You had no idea this would go wrong. You had no idea that Alastair and the others would attack you. You had no idea I’d start shooting at people. You had no idea Crowley would contact your brother. You had no idea your family would see that video.” 

That was a surprisingly solid argument. 

Cas gave a slight smile. “The most you could have planned,” he said slowly, “was that your father would one day see that video. And that would mean he’d have to admit to watching gay porn before he could do anything to you. And would have been a fairly elegant revenge.”

Dean felt himself breathing again. His chest was full again. 

“Are you with me?” asked Cas. 

“Yeah,” answered Dean.

“Good.” Cas’ features relaxed. “I have one more question.” 

“Ok,” said Dean.

“Do we need to go get Sam?”


	15. Hey Sammy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy valentines day!

Dean considered Cas’ question carefully. “I don’t know,” he answered. “He’s got Bobby—our uncle, not our real uncle, but he’s _like_ our uncle, never mind. Bobby will look out for him.” 

“Why didn’t Bobby look out for you?”

“He didn’t know.”

“Your father beat you, how could he not know?”

“Dad was careful about where he hit me.” Dean licked his lips. “He’d be careful about where he hit Sam, too. But Sam’s straight, I think. Unless he never told me. But he told me everything.” 

“It’s ok,” said Cas quickly, his voice soft and soothing. “So if Bobby had known your father was hitting you or Sam, he would have stopped him?” Cas shook his head. “No, forget that question. Bobby would not be in favor of John hurting Sam, is that right?” 

“Right.” 

“Ok. How about,” he said slowly, “and please consider before you protest, how about we call Bobby and tell him just enough to let him know to watch out for Sam?”

Dean actively stopped himself from saying no.

“That way,” continued Cas, “Sam doesn’t see you while you’re feeling vulnerable. You don’t have to see John, and we can relax knowing Sam is safe.” 

“I don’t know what to tell Bobby,” said Dean. 

“Do you want to practice?”

“No.” Dean leaned onto his knees and put his head in his hands. “Let’s just do it. We should just do it now before I freak out again.”

“I can speak on your behalf,” said Cas. “Or we could see him in person, if that would be easier.”

This was a shitty conversation to have over the phone, but Dean couldn’t trust himself to shut up if he saw Bobby in person. Then again, if Bobby decided he hated Dean too, that might mean he wouldn’t protect Sam. That was something he needed to know. He needed to read Bobby’s face when he told him. 

“Fuck,” muttered Dean. “In person. It’s shitty to tell him over the phone.”

“I’ll drive,” said Cas. He stood and handed Dean the trench coat that had been sitting in his lap. “It seemed to help your first night with me.

Dean nodded and took the coat. He didn’t need to wear it, not yet, but it felt like a shield and it was good to have in his hand.

Cas grabbed his keys. He was again stepping into the way of danger on Dean’s behalf.

“I can go alone,” said Dean. “You’ve done enough.”

“No,” said Cas. “I—just no. I don’t know if you’re being polite or if you really don’t want me to come with you but I can’t let you go alone. We can take separate cars, but that’s the best I can offer.”

“I was being polite,” said Dean.

“All right, well fuck that,” said Cas. “Let’s go.” 

Once in the car, Cas asked for directions and sped down the road. “Has no one attempted to contact you?” asked Cas. “Oh, no, your phone was disconnected.” His eyes widened. “Dean, what about email? I have a laptop. You could have checked. I didn’t even offer.” He scrambled to reach his pocket. “You can use my phone. I don’t have any social media apps installed, but I assume you can still reach them online?”

“I’m not active on social media,” said Dean. “I probably don’t have any emails. Bobby hardly uses his computer and I don’t know if Sam would write to me yet.”

_Or, what if you check your email and Facebook and no one has written you anything?_

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “Anyway. I don’t need your phone. But thanks.” He pointed to the stoplight ahead of them. “Take a left here.” 

They made it across town in record time. Cas was angry, impatient driver. Bobby just beyond the city limits. His house was at the center of what was essentially a ten-acre junkyard. He stored old cars and car parts on his land. Cas didn’t lose speed when the asphalt turned to dirt and he broke another record reaching the other end of Bobby’s driveway.

Bobby’s car was parked near the front porch. Cas parked beside it. “Do you still want to do this?” asked Cas. 

“Yeah.” 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Itchy.” 

“That’s not the symptom I was expecting,” said Cas 

Dean shrugged. “I’m also pretty sweaty. I’ve been getting really hot lately.” 

“Probably due to your panic attacks.” Cas got out of the car and pulled his pill capsule from his pocket. 

“Panic attacks?” asked Dean. He got out and met Cas at the front of the car. 

“You’ve had several.” He shook a blue pill into his hand. “Xanex? It should help to lessen the stress of the conversation we’re about to have.” 

Dean popped the pill into his mouth but failed to swallow it before it could leave a bitter, chalky taste on his tongue. He grimaced. 

“I was going to offer you water,” said Cas.

“Too late now.” Dean shook out his hands. “Let’s do this.”

The front door swung open. A balding, tired looking man with a bushy beard squinted at them from under the porch light. Before Dean could wave or say “hello” or offer any kind of greeting, Bobby ran toward him. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cas move to intercept. Bobby shoved Cas aside and wrapped both arms around Dean in what had to be the world’s strongest hug. 

Bobby’s cheek was wet as he brushed against the side of Dean’s face. 

_Holy shit, is he crying? Are we all crying now? Is this normal?_

Bobby finally pulled away and held Dean by the shoulders. His lips were moving like he thought he was speaking. Finally he just sighed. “Thank God.” He put his hand on Dean’s cheek, covering the spot where John had punched him. “He cut your phone off, didn’t he?” asked Bobby. 

“Yeah,” answered Dean. 

“I’m so sorry, boy.” His voice was rougher than usual. “I knew this day would come. I’m so sorry.” 

Dean almost forgot Cas was with them until he spoke.

“Is Sam with their father?” he asked.

Bobby glared but then his face softened. “Is that your boyfriend?” asked Bobby.

“Uh,” answered Dean, “not exactly.” What Cas was remained to be determined for sure, but as of that moment, he was the best friend Dean ever had. 

Bobby huffed. “I don’t know how much of your daddy’s story is true but—” 

“Probably none of it,” said Cas. He moved to stand at Dean’s side. “But Sam’s location is the reason we’re here.” 

Bobby’s face fell. “I was hoping he’d turn up with you,” he said to Dean.

“What do you mean ‘turn up?’” asked Dean. 

“When John told him you were gone, he took the car and left,” said Bobby. “He came to see me but,” he paused and couldn’t quite seem to look Dean in the eye anymore, “when he found out how much I knew he took off again. We haven’t been able to find him.”

At that, Cas pulled Dean away from Bobby and stepped between them. “How much, exactly, do you know, and how long have you known it?” 

“Don’t blame him,” said Dean. He stepped around Cas. 

Bobby’s eyes were watering again. “I’m so sorry.” 

“How long have you known?” growled Cas. 

“Calm down,” said Dean. He grabbed Cas just above the elbow and hoped it would be enough. 

“16 years,” answered Bobby. 

Cas turned to Dean. “There is a discrepancy in the timeline.” 

“What?” asked Dean and Bobby in unison.

Cas leaned over to whisper to Dean. “You said the abuse began in high school. You haven’t been out of high school for that long. Is there more to the story? What happened 16 years ago?” 

“I have no idea,” answered Dean. “I was five. I don’t remember.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“We’ll figure it out later. We need to find Sam.” 

“What discrepancy?” asked Bobby. “What are you two talking about?” 

“Later,” said Dean. “Can you call Sam and tell him I’m here.”

“Phone’s in the house,” said Bobby. 

They followed Bobby inside and into the living room. His cell phone was sitting beside his computer. The browser was up on the computer and it looked like there were about 30 tabs open. Bobby rubbed the back of his neck when he saw Dean eyeing the screen.

“I didn’t want to miss anything if one of you tried to contact me,” said Bobby. “But there are so many damn ways to get in touch with somebody these days I didn’t know where to start.”

“Nothing from Sam?”

“Radio silent. He’s pretty pissed off.” Bobby wiped the remaining tears from his cheeks and nodded toward the kitchen. “He brought your laptop over, by the way. It’s in the kitchen on the table. I think he was going to try to track your phone or something. I didn’t touch it in case he has it doing something.” 

“Why is he mad?” asked Cas. 

“He figured out John was full of shit pretty quick,” answered Bobby. “I think,” he said slowly, careful to address Dean, “when he found out I already knew you were gay, that was the last straw.” 

“Is that all you know?” asked Cas. 

“Not helping,” muttered Dean. “And I’m not gay. I’m bi. I think. I guess. I don’t know. I just want to talk to Sam.” 

Bobby dialed Sam’s number and held the phone up to his ear. “Is there more to that story?” he asked Cas. 

“Later,” snapped Dean.

“He’s not going to pick up,” said Bobby. “I’m gonna leave a message. I’ve left several already. Right now the only call he’d answer is one from you.” 

Cas leaned over to whisper to Dean again. “You should tell him about your father.”

“Not now,” hissed Dean.

“What did he mean by 16 years?”

“I don’t know,” answered Dean. He shushed Cas when Bobby started talking into the phone. 

“Hey Sammy. I’ve got your brother here safe and sound,” said Bobby. “He wants to see you. We’re at my house. You better get your ass over here ASAP. I’ve got a missing person’s report filled out and I’m not afraid to file it.” 

He hung up and handed the phone to Dean. “Text him for me, will you? My fingers are too slow and fat to deal with that crap.” 

Dean’s hand started shaking again as soon as he touched the phone. 

Cas took it from him and narrated as he typed. “Hello, Sam. Dean is with Bobby.”

“You’re using Bobby’s phone,” said Dean. “Just say ‘with me.’”

“Dean is with me. He wants to see you.” Cas clicked a button. “I sent it.”

“How about fill me in while we wait,” said Bobby. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

“Where is John?” asked Cas.

“Probably drunk as a skunk or passed out somewhere,” he said. “He called me asking to drive him around to find Sam. I said no. Don’t know what happened after that and, forgive me son, but I don’t really give a shit. Sam and I figured you wouldn’t just run off without telling us. We figured he kicked you out and cut you off. That was reason enough for me to leave his ass out of the damn loop and I told him that when he called.”

The phone rang and the room went silent. Bobby grabbed it and answered. “Sam? Yeah. He’s right here. I swear. Yeah, hang on.” Bobby handed Dean the phone.

Dean took a shaky breath and took the phone. “Hey, Sammy,” he said.


	16. Co-star

The conversation was short. Sam said he was about 20 minutes away. Dean told him not to talk on the phone and drive. Sam was reluctant. Dean hung up first. The important thing was that Sam was all right. 

They sat around the kitchen table. Dean had a hand on his laptop, but hadn’t opened it. Cas had moved his chair so he was almost touching knees with Dean. Bobby sat across from them, foot tapping nervously against the linoleum floor. 

“We got a few minutes kill,” said Bobby. “When do I get to know what you two keep whispering about?” 

Cas set his hand on Dean’s knee under the table. 

“I thought since Dad hit me, he might hit Sam,” said Dean. “I’ve never seen him that mad. I was worried Sam wasn’t safe.” 

“I’m sorry your dad’s like that,” said Bobby. “He’s not right. I should have taken you boys in when I had the chance.” 

“When did you have the chance?” asked Cas. 

“16 years ago,” answered Bobby. “Soon as I figured out Dean might not be straight, John and I had a hell of a fight. I almost took him to court to get custody.” 

“Holy shit, I didn’t know that,” said Dean. 

“Why didn’t you?” asked Cas. 

“Because I’m a stupid old man,” answered Bobby. “I thought it would be worse to take you and Sam away from your dad after you’d just lost your mom. I was wrong.” 

“Is that why Dad made us move?” asked Dean. 

“Yeah. Pretty much every time you boys had to pick up and leave was because of me. Ya’ll would stay gone, come back, I’d pick a fight with John, and he’d take off with you two again. I finally figured out if I wanted to be able to keep an eye on you two, I’d better keep my mouth shut.” 

Dean decided he could never tell Bobby the whole truth, not without Bobby blaming himself. When Cas squeezed his knee, Dean put his hand over Cas’. 

“How did you figure out Dean was not heterosexual?” asked Cas. 

That was not the route Dean would have chosen for the conversation, but it was better than the alternative. 

“Just after he turned five. I got him a Batman figure for his birthday. He ran around telling people he was his boyfriend until John took it away.” 

Cas snorted, then glanced at Dean. “Apologies,” he said. 

“Definitely don’t remember that,” muttered Dean. Then again, he didn’t remember much from the two or three years after his mother died. 

Cas nudged him. “I always preferred Clark Kent.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, no. Over Batman?”

“He was kind,” said Cas. “And I liked his glasses.” 

“Just plain Clark Kent? Not even Superman?” 

Bobby laughed. “How long have you two known each other?” 

They gave their conflicting answers at the same time. 

“About four days,” said Cas. 

“A few months,” said Dean. 

They were saved from an interrogation when a car door slammed outside.

“I’m gonna question you about that later,” said Bobby, pointing to Cas.

Dean let Bobby get ahead of them as they went to the door to greet Sam. He pulled Cas back. “Don’t tell them about Dad,” he whispered. “They’ll just feel bad.” 

“They’ll find out eventually,” whispered Cas. “But I’ll yield to you. They’re your family.” 

Sam threw open the door just as they entered the living room. He rushed forward and for the second time that night, Dean found himself crushed in a hug. When he let go, he looked at Dean’s face. “He _hit_ you,” snarled Sam. “That mother fucker. I’m going to kill him.” 

“Take it easy, Hulk,” said Dean. 

Sam looked at Cas. “Who are you?” He glared. “Did Dad hit you too?” 

Dean kept forgetting that he and Cas looked like the tail end of a Rocky movie. He wondered why Bobby didn’t mention anything about Cas’ bruises. 

“No, John didn’t hit me,” answered Cas. “I’m Castiel Novak. I’m Dean’s friend.” 

Dean also realized he didn’t know Cas’ last name until just now. Did Cas know his? 

“He’s your friend?” Sam directed the question at Dean. 

“Yeah,” answered Dean. 

Sam’s expression softened. He held his hand out shake Cas’ and Cas accepted.

“Sam Winchester,” he said. “I’m his brother.”

“Baby brother,” corrected Dean. 

“Younger brother,” said Sam. 

“They’re both idiots,” said Bobby. He clapped Sam and Dean on the shoulders and brought them into a hug. He released them, then lightly smacked the back of Sam’s head. 

“Ow,” said Sam. “What was that for?” 

“Running away,” answered Bobby. “You can ditch John, but you better not try to ditch me again, either one of you.” He jabbed a finger at Sam. “And no more grand theft auto.” 

“Sorry,” muttered Sam. 

“I forgive you,” said Bobby, “but just barely. Take a seat. Castiel and Dean were just lying about how long they’ve known each other.” 

Bobby claimed the recliner and Sam claimed a chair, leaving Cas and Dean to sit together on the couch. It felt deliberate. 

“How’d you know they’re lying?” asked Sam. 

“Castiel said four days. Dean said a couple months.” 

“Damn guys,” said Sam, shaking his head. 

“Dean’s estimate is the correct one,” said Cas.

For the many great and wonderful skills Cas had, lying wasn’t one of them. He didn’t fidget or avoid eye contact or struggle to keep a straight face. He just sat there, staring down both Bobby and Sam, as though he had the power to will them to believe him. 

“How about I tell you what doesn’t make sense,” said Bobby, “and then you fill me in.” 

“All right,” said Cas. 

 _Fuck._  

“Dean’s never mentioned you, but he’s good a keeping secrets. Months is plausible, days seems more likely. You’ve both taken a beating. John explains what happened to Dean. We’ve got no idea what happened to you. He says you two aren’t a couple, but you’re damn sure in cahoots about something.” Bobby turned to Sam. “You said John saw Dean with a boy and that’s what set the whole thing off, but if he,” Bobby pointed to Cas, “isn’t the boy John saw him with, then who the hell was it?” 

Dean shot Sam a look. Bobby didn’t know about the video. 

 _Yes, Virginia, there is a God._  

“Guy I met at a bar,” said Dean quickly. Cas and Sam were taking too long to respond. 

“Where’s he fit in?” Bobby pointed to Cas. 

“I met Dean at a different bar,” answered Cas. 

Dean had never wished for the power of telepathy more in his life than he did in that moment. 

“And your face?” asked Bobby.

“He doesn’t remember,” said Dean. 

Bobby raised an eyebrow. Dean answered too fast. Bobby turned to Sam. “You want to shovel anything on top of this mountain of bullshit?” 

Sam glanced at Dean, but Dean couldn’t help him. They were cornered. Everyone knew just enough to know they didn’t know everything. 

“Porn,” blurted Dean. He covered his eyes with one hand. “I was going to be in a porno. A big gay porno. For money.” He laughed. “I guess I like sucking dick so I might as well suck dick for money. Only I didn’t finish the job and you can’t half-ass gay porn, a-fucking-pparently. Anyway. Stole the money, ran like hell. Pissed off this guy—swear to God he’s the Hans Gruber of gay porn. Hans sent Sam a video.” Dean laughed again. “Sorry about that bro, can’t undo that kind of retinal scarring. Of course the video was me sucking dick, like I do, like a bitch.” 

He was vaguely aware of a hand on his shoulder. 

“Of course, nobody knew I was a bitch until Hans outed me,” continued Dean. “His name’s not Hans. It’s Crowley. Not like that’s any better. Sam thought I was in trouble because Crowley is a cryptic dick-wad, so he showed Dad and _that’s_ what set Dad off. That’s when he hit me. That’s when I left. And I stayed away for a few days because who wants a bitch hanging around, right?” 

Sam and Bobby were staring at him. 

Dean caught a whiff of the foul thing he smelled earlier and remembered he was the source. His stomach lurched. 

Cas grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. He nodded to Bobby and Sam. “Excuse us. We will be right back.”

He led Dean away from the living room. “Is there an extra bedroom here? Or somewhere you feel safe?” 

“I’m fine,” said Dean. He swayed. The room spun. He laughed. It was too hot again. 

Cas pulled him down the hallway. There were several spare rooms. It was an old, but decent sized house. He and Sam use to play in the attic. Dean didn’t know why he wasn’t sharing any of this information with Cas. 

It didn’t matter. After opening the door to a bathroom and two closets, Cas found the extra downstairs bedroom. He pulled Dean inside, shut the door and sat him down on the bed. He handed Dean another blue pill and put two fingers on Dean’s neck. 

“I’ll handle this,” said Cas. “Do you trust me?” 

He couldn’t even talk to his own fucking family. He was pathetic. 

“Dean.” 

“I trust you.” 

“It’s going to be all right.”

The door opened behind them.

“What’s wrong?” asked Sam.

Bobby pushed past him and went to Dean’s side. “What’s going on?” 

“He needs space,” said Cas. 

Dean’s chest was too tight again. He couldn’t breathe; or maybe he was breathing too much. 

“Who are you, really?” demanded Sam.

“I’m his doctor and his co-star,” snapped Cas.

That was the last thing he heard before he blacked out.


	17. The truth

He heard their voices fading in and out. He considered trying to blink, but the darkness was warm and comfortable and there were no wide-eyed faces watching him. He focused on what he could hear and feel.

Someone had their fingers lightly pressed to his wrist. It was probably Cas checking his pulse. Cas was also talking.

“You do not need to know the specifics,” said Cas. “I shot at Alastair and he released Dean. We escaped and Dean spent the night with me. I watched over him to make sure he was safe.”

Sweet fucking Jesus, Cas was telling them everything. Dean didn’t move. He wanted Sam and Bobby to know; they deserved to know.

“When Dean saw your messages the next day,” said Cas, “he left to return the money to Crowley.”

Dean tried to remember how to breathe and count. Cas kept talking. He told them about Crowley trashing his house, how Dean showed up later, that he and Dean left and returned to find Michael. He skipped some of the details and downplayed Michael’s visit, but for the most part, he told the truth.

“What is the address of that place?” asked Bobby. “Where they assaulted him.”

“I’ll tell you later,” answered Cas.

“I want to know too,” said Sam.

“Bobby can tell you, if he decides it’s appropriate.”

“I deserve to know,” said Sam. “He was there because of me. He knows I’m trying to move. He said he’d help.”

“It doesn’t matter why he was there,” said Cas. “But Sam, you don’t need to be involved in anything that happens next.”

“I agree,” said Bobby. 

“He will wake up soon,” said Cas. “There’s one more thing you should know. It will upset you. Sam, if you’ve experienced something similar, please let us know.” 

He was going to tell them about John. Dean could stop him. He felt the fingers on his wrist press down. Cas ran his thumb over the palm of Dean’s hand. He knew Dean was awake. He was letting him have plausible deniability; letting him stay unconscious while he took on the burden of explaining. Dean stayed still.

“John has been abusing him—” 

Dean heard a sharp intake of breath. 

“Hitting him,” clarified Cas. “Dean says since high school. I assume he’s telling the truth. John found out about Dean’s sexual preference and the beatings began. I do not know how frequently they occurred. Dean said John hit him where the bruises wouldn’t show—Bobby, sit down. More violence won’t help.”

“That mother fucker,” growled Bobby. “Sam, did he hit you too?” 

“No,” answered Sam quietly. “I didn’t know. I don’t know how I didn’t know. Dean tells me everything.”

“He has suffered a great deal of trauma,” said Cas. “I’m sure he didn’t want to share that burden with you.”

“But he’ll be ok,” said Sam. “You said he’d be ok.”

“He’s all right,” said Cas. His thumb brushed over Dean’s palm again. “His physical injuries will heal. I’m not entirely qualified to treat the mental symptoms. I think he should see a psychiatrist at some point.”

“He’s never going to do that,” said Sam.

“He might,” said Bobby. “He talked to Castiel.”

“Castiel shot people for him,” said Sam. “I can’t think of a faster way to gain Dean’s trust. He’s not going to trust a stranger.”

“I didn’t actually shoot anyone,” said Cas. “I shot _at_ people.” 

“Still,” said Sam, “it made him trust you.”

“The important thing for you both to take away from this is that Dean may need some time and space,” said Cas. “It’s also important that you don’t take any of this personally. He’s not angry with you. This wasn’t your fault. Yes, it was terrible, but he is safe now, and I will make sure he recovers.”

“We can help,” said Sam. 

“Just be patient with him,” said Cas. “Did John ever hurt you?”

“No,” answered Sam. “He loses his temper a lot, but he never hit me.”

“Bobby, I’ll leave it to you to make sure he’s telling the truth,” said Cas.

“Roger that,” said Bobby.

Dean felt the worst of the conversation was over and decided it was safe to pretend to wake up. He faked a groan and put a hand to his head. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” answered Cas.

“What’d I miss?” he asked.

Cas pulled his fingers away from Dean’s wrist. Dean moved his hand up slightly, just enough to connect with Cas as he moved his hand away.

“I more or less told them what we discussed,” said Cas. “Probably more, rather than less. But they are informed.”

Dean surveyed the room. Bobby standing over Dean’s bed and Sam was standing near Cas with his arms folded over his chest. Cas was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Sam was somewhere between angry and heartbroken. Bobby was clearly trying to soften his expression but Dean could see a red-hot rage boiling just below the surface.

“How do you feel?” asked Sam.

“Not too bad,” answered Dean. He sat up and swung his legs over the side to sit next to Cas. He braced himself for the onslaught of apologies from his family. Sam cracked first; Bobby probably let him go first. His little brother was visibly shaken and couldn’t seem to say “I’m sorry” enough. He offered several forms of vengeance against their father and swore he’d never speak to John again unless Dean needed or wanted him to. 

Bobby’s apology was short, gruff, sincere and it was the only time Dean had ever seen Bobby trip over his words. He ended with swearing to protect Dean and to make sure John couldn’t get to Sam.

Cas sat quietly by Dean’s side through the whole ordeal. Dean cried again, but so did everyone else. Dean wasn’t sure when the crying would stop—or _if_ it would ever stop. He didn’t mean to zone out. He didn’t blame Bobby or Sam. He didn’t really blame John, not yet anyway. However, the moment overwhelmed him and all he could do was wonder if this meant they’d treat him differently. Would they pity him or blame him for not speaking up? Would they think he was too stupid or weak to fight for himself? Would they walk on eggshells around him?

Cas must have sensed the start of another wave of panic, because he changed the conversation.

“We should probably go back home,” said Cas. “It’s late. I’m sure we’re all tired.” 

“Ya’ll stay put,” said Bobby. “As the oldest one here, I’m making an executive decision. We all stay here tonight. I’ve got plenty of rooms and the couch isn’t too uncomfortable if somebody wants to take the living room.”

Bobby rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going to run out and grab some stuff to make breakfast tomorrow. You boys can go ahead to bed, watch a movie, raid the kitchen; make yourselves at home.” 

“Breakfast my ass,” said Dean. “You’re going to Dad’s house.” 

“Breakfast,” he said again. “That’s it, I swear.” He nodded to himself, turned to leave, then stopped. “Nobody go snooping around in my office while I’m gone.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We know the rules.”

Dean leaned over to Cas. “He’s ex-CIA, or so he says.”

“One more thing,” said Bobby, pointing at Dean. “I want to be clear that Sam and I don’t give a damn who you love, like, or hold hands with. We love you. Forever, no matter what.”

“Yeah,” said Sam quickly. “Sorry. I thought that went without saying.”

“Thanks,” muttered Dean.

“Ok,” said Bobby. “I’ll be back. Any special requests? No? Ok. Hang tight and for the love of God, stay put.” With that, he left.

“I have some of your stuff,” said Sam. “It’s in the Jeep.”

“Thanks, Sammy.”

“I didn’t get everything. I couldn’t tell if you’d packed or not, so I just grabbed a bunch of random stuff.”

“Better than nothing,” said Dean. “I figured I wouldn’t see any of my stuff again.”

“It felt like the least I could do.” He glanced behind him. “You think Bobby really went to the store.”

“No,” answered Dean.

“I believe he took our keys,” said Cas, searching his pockets. “I thought I heard a jingling sound a moment ago.”

“Fuck,” muttered Dean.

Sam was already on the way out of the room to check. Dean heard him swear from down the hall.

“Pretty sure you left your keys in the kitchen,” said Dean. 

“I think you’re right,” said Cas. “That was foolish.”

Dean took Cas’ hand and stood, pulling the other man up with him. “I’ll never be able to repay you,” he said. “I’ll never be able to explain how much you’ve helped me. ‘Thank you’ doesn’t begin to cover it.” 

Cas cocked his head to the side. “Remind me to tell you a story later,” he said. “I’ve seen your demons. You have a right to know mine.”

“I fucking knew you had secrets,” said Dean. “I want to know now.” 

“We should watch Sam now,” said Cas. “He might try to run away.”

“That’s a thin argument,” said Dean.

“I promise I’ll tell you later,” said Cas. “Tonight, if you want. But not now.”

“Tonight,” said Dean. “I’ll hold you to it.” 

* * *

The Jeep was unlocked when Bobby left. Sam and Cas helped Dean carry his stuff inside and into the extra downstairs bedroom.

Dean unofficially claimed the room and, without realizing it, expected Cas to stay with him. He didn’t figure it out until Sam said he’d sleep on the couch and Dean told him that was dumb because no one was in the upstairs bedroom.

Cas didn’t correct him and Sam didn’t make a big deal about it. 

Unofficially, Sam planned to stay upstairs and Cas and Dean planned to stay downstairs, just down the hall from Bobby’s room. They didn’t discuss it further. 

Sam found a deck of cards and convinced them to play blackjack until Bobby came back. Dean made a quiet bet with Sam to see how long it would take Cas to figure out that Sam was card counting.

Dean bet three hands. Sam bet ten. Cas figured it out after seven.

Bobby came home three hours later, not carrying enough groceries to justify three hours of shopping.

“So,” said Dean, “how’s Dad?” 

“You never have quite grasped the concept of plausible deniability, have you?” asked Bobby. 

“What did you do to him?” asked Sam. 

“Nothing you need to worry about,” said Bobby.

“We know you did something,” said Dean.

“Plausible,” said Bobby slowly, “deniability. I didn’t hurt him. I just needed to give him a piece of my mind and lay down some ground rules. Dean, I got a buddy who’ll help me move your stuff.” 

“I can get my stuff,” said Dean. “Or leave it. Sam got everything I really care about.”

“You don’t need to go back there yet,” said Bobby. He cleared his throat and glanced at Cas. “I know some stuff can be triggers for bad thoughts. I figure that house is a trigger.”

“I agree,” said Cas. “Dean, that’s something to consider.” 

“Fine,” said Dean.

“We’ll get you packed up and moved out tomorrow. You can keep your stuff here unless you have somewhere else in mind.”

“Here,” said Dean. Hiding out with Cas was one thing, moving in with him was something different.

The four of them stayed up talking for a while longer, still coming down from the adrenaline rush of the day.

They parted ways around two in the morning. Sam went upstairs. Bobby went to his room. Cas followed Dean to his room to borrow sleep clothes. 

When Cas came back after changing into his clothes, Dean tried to act casual. 

“You want to sleep in here?” he asked. “The bed’s big enough to share.”

“Are you comfort—” 

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t comfortable with it,” said Dean.

“All right.” 

“Is that a yes?” asked Dean. 

“Yes.”

“Shut the door.” Cas did and Dean patted a spot on the bed. “Good. Now tell me about your demons.”


	18. A Brother

Cas sat beside him on the bed with his head bowed. “I don’t know where to begin,” he said. 

“That’s ok, I’m not above asking stupid questions,” said Dean. He frowned. “Plus there’s a lot about you I don’t know, so maybe I _should_ ask questions.” 

“All right.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.” 

“What the fuck?” said Dean. “How have you had time to become a doctor, join the Air Force and lose your license? If you lost your license. I guess I don’t know that either.”

“I did lose it,” answered Cas. “And I was dishonorably discharged. It all happened rather quickly.”

“And how about becoming a doctor? Doesn’t that take like a hundred years, or something? Are you Doogie Howser?”

Cas squinted at him. “What is Doogie Howser?”

“It’s a show about this kid who became a doctor—point is you’re pretty young, aren’t you? For all of that?” 

“My family is in the healthcare industry. They’ve always wanted one of us—my siblings and me—to become a doctor and another to become a pharmacist. They thought it would be useful to have us on staff,” answered Cas. “I developed an obsessive need to learn and I desperately wanted to be a doctor. My family paid for anything and everything to expedite my education. My sister did the same thing, and became a pharmacist.” He sighed. “School was a welcome escape from the family, which helped fuel our progress.” He paused, “That and Adderall.” 

“How does the military fit in?”

“My father died not long after I completed my residency. Instead of attending his funeral, I enlisted. I’m still not entirely sure what I was trying to accomplish.”

“How’d you get discharged?”

“Drug abuse.” Cas glanced at him before lowering his head to look at the floor. “And attempting to shoot my superior.” 

“Well, I guess that would do it. Do you usually solve problems by shooting at them?”

“It’s become an accidental trend. Honestly, I’m not sure what provoked me. I don’t remember much about the incident.” 

“Because you were blind with fury or because you were high?”

“Both. Mostly high.” He sighed again. “So after that I lost my medical license and was discharged. My family tried to send me to rehab. It helped me, but they never did see a return on their investment in my education.”

“So that’s what Michael meant with the junkie comments?”

“Yes,” answered Cas. “I’m sorry about that. They know I’m a junkie. He assumed you were one as well because I moved in with an addict after leaving rehab. He and I were not romantically involved, but I also chose that moment to come out to my family. I suppose that didn’t help. They cut all ties to me after that, except for Anna.”

“Wait, how do you have a gun if you were dishon—oh—it’s not registered, is it?”

“It’s not. It’s part of my ‘illegal crap’ collection, as you called it.”

“Is that it?”

“Is what it?”

“Are those all of your demons?” 

“More or less.” 

“Cas, you made it sound like you’d done something terrible. I thought you had a body buried in your back yard or something.” 

“No, no bodies.” He bit his lip.

“Is there more?” 

When Cas spoke again, he was quieter. “My older brothers, Michael and Zachariah are similar. You met Michael. You can imagine how Zachariah behaves. Ann and I are similar. We had a middle sibling. His name was Gabriel. He was the reason we went into medicine. It wasn’t for our family.”

“What happened to Gabriel?” 

“He died.”

“Shit, Cas. I’m sorry.”

“I was young. I don’t remember much about it, but I do remember him. He was,” Cas paused again. “I don’t know how to describe him in a way worthy of his memory. He was wonderful, smart, kind. He was gay. The family hated that and tried to push him away. He must have suspected I was gay, too. He watched out for me, and defended me on more than one occasion.” 

Dean draped his arm over Cas’ shoulders and pulled him closer.

“He was murdered,” said Cas weakly. “It was brutal; a hate crime. A group of men tortured and killed him.” His voice cracked. “And the family tried to cover it up. They told people he was in an accident.” 

“Come here,” said Dean. He pushed himself farther back on the bed and pulled Cas into his lap. Cas was trembling against his chest. Dean didn’t push for more answers. He could figure out the rest. 

Gabriel’s death made his younger siblings want to help people. It made Cas become a doctor. It explained his excessive drug use. It explained why he saved Dean. It explained why he was so quick to reunite Dean with Sam.

“I can’t imagine what he must have felt,” breathed Cas. “I read the report. The things they did to him. He died alone. He shouldn’t have been alone.”

Dean ran his fingers through Cas’ hair. 

“That’s why I—” His voice faltered. “That was why—when I saw you—” 

“I know,” said Dean. “It’s ok.”

“It’s why you don’t need to thank me,” he said. “You don’t have to thank people for being humane.”

“I understand,” said Dean. He rocked Cas slowly, side to side.

Cas clutched Dean’s shirt with a shaky hand and hid his face against Dean’s chest. He fell silent.

Eventually Dean encouraged Cas to lie down. Dean got up to turn off the lights. He crawled back into bed and wrapped himself around Cas’ shivering form. The bone-deep ache in Cas spread into Dean’s body, but it made him feel strong; strong because he was able to take some of Cas’ pain away, strong because he could hold Cas and be his shield, if only for a night, strong because in that moment he knew he and Cas had fallen together and survived.

Cas did not sleep peacefully, if he slept at all. Dean faded in and out of consciousness throughout the night. Sometimes he woke up to readjust his position and move closer to Cas.

In the morning he awoke to find Cas pillowed against his chest with his eyes closed. Dean brushed Cas’ hair away from his forehead. 

“Good morning,” rumbled Cas. 

“Morning,” said Dean. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. I’m sorry for my behavior last night.” 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’m glad you told me.” 

Cas was quiet for a beat, as if searching for something to say. He settled on a quiet “thank you.”

Dean glanced at the clock on the wall. It was still early. “You want coffee or do you want to keep laying here.”

“Laying here is an option?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I pick that.”

Dean laughed, his chest felt heavy and warm beneath the weight of Cas’ body.

“How are you feeling?” asked Cas. 

“Better than I’ve been in a while.”

Cas nuzzled against him and ran a hand up his chest, resting it just below Dean’s shoulder.

Dean covered Cas’ hand with his own, his other hand trailing patters against Cas’ back.

“So,” mumbled Cas, “you’re not heterosexual.”

“Nope,” answered Dean. At first the question seemed random, but then he remembered he was curled up in bed with a man who’d previously believed Dean to be straight.

Dean wanted to follow his reply with something more committal. Maybe he could roll Cas onto his back and kiss him. Maybe he could start with leaning down to kiss Cas’ forehead. Maybe he could roll Cas onto his back and grind his hips against him and suck and bite at his neck until he left a mark that said “this man is mine.”

The thoughts made him dizzy. He took a deep breath and squeezed Cas’ hand at little tighter.

Cas looked up. He wiggled an arm free to prop under his chin. He frowned for a moment. “You look pale,” he said. 

Dean laughed, because he couldn’t think of a better way to respond. 

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah.”

Cas raised and eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. 

Dean cleared his throat. “I guess it’s that this is kind of new for me. I’ve never, um, _cuddled_ with a guy.”

Cas’ lips turned slightly upwards. “That makes two of us. There isn’t much post-coital cuddling in porn.”

“What about before porn?” asked Dean. “You’ve had sex other than porn-sex, right?”

“Before Crowley hired me, I’d only had one sexual encounter. It was nice, but brief. I had an exam the next morning so I left somewhat abruptly.”

“ _One?_ ” asked Dean. “How did you go from _one_ to porn?”

“I enjoyed it,” answered Cas. “Porn seemed like a logical career move.” 

“I don’t know if that’s genius or naïve.”

“It was stupid,” said Cas. “Clearly, it was a stupid decision. Porn is to sex what lip-syncing is to singing.”

“That’s adorable.”

Cas grinned.

They heard clanging coming from down the hall.

“Bet that’s Bobby starting breakfast,” said Dean.

“Should we assist?”

Dean sighed, and watched Cas rise and fall with his breath. “Yeah, I guess.”

They changed out of their sleep clothes and went to find Bobby.


	19. Something Different

Bobby left the three of them after breakfast. His friend, a man named Rufus, stopped by with a large truck and picked him up. They took off, presumably to retrieve the remainder of Dean’s belongings. Dean wanted to go with them. It felt wrong to have someone else clean up his mess, but Bobby refused. 

Sam volunteered to help Dean clean up the kitchen while Cas went to take a shower. He was fidgety and kept shooting nervous glances at Dean. 

“Out with it,” said Dean. 

“What?”

“You’ve got something you’re dying to say.”

Sam looked down at the dish he was drying. “I don’t know how to say it,” he mumbled. 

“Just spit it out. Don’t hold back.” 

“I’m sorry,” said Sam. 

“You already apologized. You don’t need to do it again.” 

“No. I—I’m sorry you got hurt trying to take care of me. I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to take care of me.” 

Dean stopped what he was doing and grabbed Sam’s shoulder. He forced his little brother to look at him. “Don’t do that,” he said. “Don’t start down that road. What happened to me isn’t anywhere near your fault. I try to take care of you, that’s true. But it’s because you’re my brother and that’s is what brothers do.” 

Sam’s eyes were watering. “But I know you did it for me. I know you wanted the money to help me.” 

“It’s not your fault, Sammy. My stupid decisions are my own. Besides, I was going to use the money to fix the Impala, not give it to you. No offense.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You should.” 

Sam shook his head. “I don’t want you to make sacrifices for me anymore. I want a future beyond this town and I want you to want that for yourself, too.” 

Dean bit his lip and went back to the dishes. 

“I don’t want to lose you because you were too busy taking care of me to take care of yourself,” said Sam. 

“I’m fine, Sammy. I swear.” 

“You’re not fine. And the shit you’ve been through isn’t ok. I’ll never be able to thank you for everything you’ve done to keep me happy and safe. But I can give you permission to look out for yourself.” 

“I can look out for both of us,” said Dean. “I’m a pretty damn good multi-tasker.” 

Sam sighed and brushed his hair out of his face, a sign he was agitated. “I don’t want a future without you in it.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Dean.” 

“What, Sammy?” He turned to inspect his baby brother. 

Sam’s eyes were red and he suddenly looked like he was five years old again. “Please.” 

Dean dried his hands on a rag. He pulled Sam into a hug and patted his back. “It’s all right, buddy. I understand.” 

Sam pulled away to wipe his eyes. “When I find that Alastair fuck, I’m going to kill him.” 

“You’ve got to stop saying you’re going to kill people,” said Dean. “I’m pretty sure that will ruin any chance you have of getting into law school.”

“I can make it look like self-defense.”

“No. Hard no. If you don’t want me getting into trouble on your behalf, you can’t get into trouble on mine.” 

A voice from the doorway startled them. 

“What trouble?” Cas’ hair was still wet and stuck out haphazardly. 

“Sam’s plotting murder,” said Dean. 

“Vengeance,” corrected Sam. “Technically, justice.” 

“Don’t worry about vengeance,” said Cas. “The wicked will get what’s coming to them.”

“Well that’s cryptic,” said Dean. “Do I have to worry about you murdering people, too?”

“I heal people,” said Cas. “I don’t kill them.” 

Dean raised an eyebrow. 

Cas looked away. He went to help Sam with the dishes. 

Dean wondered briefly, what it would be like to stand behind Cas and wrap his arms around his waist, to kiss his neck, to have Cas turn and smile. He shook his head, clearing the thoughts from his mind. He needed to stop letting himself drift into fantasies, especially ones he knew he’d never be able to satisfy. 

After cleaning up, Sam excused himself to study. He’d graduated in the spring and had already been accepted into his college of choice. At this point he was just being a nerd for fun. Dean teased him and told him to hide in his room all day. 

With nothing else to do, he decided to take Cas on a tour of the property. There wasn’t much to see other than old cars, but it was an excuse to leave the house and stretch his legs. It also gave him a good reason to spend time alone with Cas. 

There was a barrier between them. Cas stayed about an arm’s length away from Dean unless Dean drifted into his space. If Dean were braver, he’d walk closer and let his hand brush against Cas’. But he wasn’t brave. When he drifted, Cas would glance at him and Dean would self-correct. 

They reached a spot beneath an old tree where he and Sam played when they were children. 

“There used to be a tire swing,” said Dean. “Sam broke it a couple years back.” 

“How?” asked Cas. He shifted his weight a moved about an inch closer. 

“He was spinning around like an idiot and the rope snapped.” 

“It sounds like the structural integrity of the rope failed,” said Cas. 

“Yeah, but it’s more fun to blame Sam.” Dean stole a glance. He wanted to lie back in the grass with Cas in his arms but he couldn’t even verbalize his desire, much less follow through. Besides, something told him Cas would leave soon. There was no reason to get attached. Cas saved him and took care of him because of what happened to Gabriel. This was about redemption, not romance. He was safe now. Cas had no reason to stick around. 

He realized Cas was staring at him. “What?” he asked. 

“You have freckles,” answered Cas. 

Dean felt his cheeks flush. “Yeah,” he said. 

“I like them,” said Cas. He looked away and suddenly became intensely focused on the tree. “Um, how old is it?” 

“I don’t know,” answered Dean. “It’s been here as long as I can remember.” He eyed Cas, puzzling over the freckles comment.

“It’s a nice tree,” said Cas. He cleared his throat and walked away from Dean, apparently engrossed in studying the bark.

They’d shared so much already. Dean didn’t understand the rising awkwardness between them. Maybe it was because Cas had feelings for him, too. Maybe it was because Cas didn’t have feelings for him and was worried about sending the wrong message now that he knew Dean was bi. 

Dean decided it didn’t matter. They met a few days ago. They didn’t know enough about each other to justify a relationship. Dean wasn’t sure he could even be in a relationship. He’d never been in anything serious before, and certainly nothing serious with another man. If he started something with Cas it would probably end with them resenting each other. Dean would fuck up something, hurt Cas, and ruin whatever they had now. It was better this way. They were friends, friends who occasionally shared a bed, held hands, saw each other naked, and had been in a porno together.

Dean sighed. Something deep in the center of him began to blossom, a warm sensation crept slowly outwards, a prelude to destruction. He tried to push it back, resist the intoxicating feeling. It was a losing battle. When Cas finally looked at him again, Dean reluctantly surrendered. The sensation spread like a tidal wave, drowning him. He was in love. 

He was in love and the feeling was so terribly wrong he almost couldn’t stomach it. Cas watched him and Dean swayed. 

Cas noticed and moved closer, eyes already scanning Dean’s body for any other signs of weakness. “What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“Tired,” said Dean. 

Cas frowned. “You’re sweating.” He stepped closer, hand slightly raised. “Do you remember our breathing exercise?”

Cas was going to touch him, and God; Dean wanted Cas to touch him. He wanted that moment of contact where it was just the two of them alone in the world, happy, calm and quiet. But it was wrong to want that. It was wrong to stand still while Cas approached. It was wrong to lead Cas into doing something Dean would enjoy without warning Cas first. It was wrong, but he did it.

He took Dean’s hand and placed it in the center of his chest. He kept his hand over Dean’s as they began to breathe together.

Dean couldn’t make him body match Cas’. He tried, but the air felt heavy and thick. His throat was too tight. 

“Dean,” said Cas softly, “Stop thinking, and count with me.” 

Dean nodded. 

“Out loud,” said Cas. He started counting, telling Dean when to inhale and exhale. 

Dean counted with him, his lungs stuttering as he struggled to copy Cas. It was bizarrely intimate, Cas watching him closely while he tried to calm down. Everything they did was bizarrely intimate. After a minute or two, his thoughts stopped spiraling. The wind blew lightly against his skin. It was cool and soft. 

“Good,” said Cas. “That was good.” 

“Thanks for that,” said Dean. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” 

“No,” answered Dean quickly. 

“You can tell me if I did something,” said Cas. “I want to know any time I make you uncomfortable.” 

“It wasn’t you,” said Dean. 

 _It was me and my stupid brain. I scared myself._  

“Do you remember what you were thinking about?” asked Cas. He was still holding Dean’s hand against his chest, his thumb rubbing small circles against Dean’s skin. 

“I don’t know,” muttered Dean. He was still enjoying the feeling. He still didn’t tell Cas. It still wasn’t fair. Cas would give him anything he asked for because Dean reminded him of Gabriel. He had no way of knowing what these moments of contact meant to Dean. 

He heard a car approaching. He pulled his hand away and stepped back from Cas. The sound faded. It was just someone passing Bobby’s property on the main road. 

Cas looked down at his feet, blushing again. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have let go sooner.” 

“It’s ok,” said Dean. He needed to add to that. Cas wouldn’t want to touch him anymore if he thought it upset Dean. But that was probably for the best. It didn’t make sense for either of them to indulge in something that couldn’t be.

Dean faked a yawn. “I might take a nap,” he said. 

“All right,” said Cas. He walked with Dean back to the house. Cas was once again careful to keep his distance. 

When they reached the house, Cas stopped in the living room and let Dean continue to the bedroom alone. Dean flopped down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He was relieved to have time alone, but his brain kept wishing for stupid things, like that Cas had come with him. 

He didn’t sleep. He heard footsteps around the house. Later, he heard Sam and Cas talking, heard Sam laughing. After a while someone knocked lightly on the door. Dean sat up as Cas slowly opened the door and poked his head around the corner. 

“Oh,” he said. “I was just coming to check on you. I didn’t wake you, did I?” 

“No, I was up.” 

“May I come in?” 

“Yeah,” said Dean, then after a moment he added, “it’s your room too.” 

Cas entered and shut the door. He made it to the center of the room and stopped. “How are you feeling?” he asked. 

All thoughts Dean worked so hard to wrangle back into submission broke loose as soon as the door closed. Wishes and wants ran free without fear. They were safe in this little room.

“Better,” answered Dean. 

“Did you sleep?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good,” said Cas. He frowned slightly. “I think I will return home this evening. I want you to have time to catch up with your family.” 

Cas was leaving. Dean wasn’t invited. His heart sank. He didn’t realize he’d missed his cue to say something until Cas spoke again. 

“I can tell you’re uncomfortable again, but I don’t know why,” said Cas, tilting his head to the side. 

He needed to tell Cas to stay. He enjoyed having Cas around. Cas made him feel safe. He banished that thought quickly. He was a grown man. He didn’t need someone else around to protect him and take care of him, besides, what did Cas get out of that?

“I, uh,” began Dean, “I must still be tired.” 

“I think it’s me,” said Cas. 

“No,” said Dean, “it’s not you.” 

“It is, and that’s all right. I’m not offended. I sort of expected it actually. I think I represent a part of your life you’ve had to keep separate. If I leave, it will allow you to establish a routine with Sam and Bobby and make it easier for you to merge the two worlds.” 

“That makes sense, I guess.” It didn’t. Dean hid from was John, and he wasn’t there. Technically he hid things from Bobby and Sam, but that was for their own best interest. The only person he was completely truthful with was Cas. 

Some tiny part of him got brave. Cas had seen him at his very lowest and had yet to judge. What he had with Cas might be the only honest relationship in his life. He licked his lips. He didn’t want to lose that. 

“Stay,” breathed Dean. 

Cas tilted his head again. 

“You don’t have to,” said Dean, “but I don’t want you to think I don’t want you here. I want you to stay. Unless you want to leave,” he added quickly. “I mean you should stay because you want to stay.” 

“I’ll stay,” said Cas.

“Yeah?” 

“Yes,” said Cas. He furrowed his brow. “Dean, I—” He seemed to struggle with the rest of the thought. “Never mind.”

“Wait, what?” asked Dean. “What were you going to say?” 

“Nothing,” answered Cas. 

“Come on. You can’t start something like that then leave me hanging. Now I’m curious.” 

Cas opened his mouth then closed it, frowning. “I’m happy you want me to stay,” he said. 

“You don’t look happy.” 

“I am. I’m just concerned about you.” 

“I’m fine,” said Dean. 

“All right,” said Cas. “Sam is going to teach me how to count cards. Would you like to join us?” 

“Sure,” answered Dean. 

He followed Cas out to the living room, acutely aware of the change between them.


	20. Listen

Rufus and Bobby returned in the evening. They unloaded the truck and Cas volunteered to help. Dean announced that Cas had a broken rib, and Rufus and Bobby made an executive decision to unload the truck on their own. Sam and Dean carried things from the drop point in the living room back to his bedroom. Dean gave Cas small things so the weight wouldn’t aggravate his injury. Cas kept insisting he could do more. 

It didn’t take long to unpack. Dean didn’t have a lot of stuff. He wasn’t sure why it took Bobby all day to collect his things, but he suspected it had something to do with John. Dean still hadn’t heard from his father. 

Rufus didn’t stay for dinner. He shook Dean’s hand, said it was nice to meet him and Sam. He and Bobby shared a cryptic glance then he got back in his truck and took off. 

They looked at Bobby, waiting for an update. 

“So,” said Bobby, “what’s for dinner? I’m starving.” 

“Pizza,” answered Sam. “It just got here. What did you and Rufus do all day?”

“Pack,” answered Bobby. 

“You were gone a long time,” said Dean. “Considering I don’t have that much crap.” 

“Winchesters,” muttered Bobby. He looked at Cas. “Do they give you this much trouble?”

“No,” answered Cas.

Dean laughed.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Sam, we packed your stuff too, but we didn’t have room to fit everything in the truck. We’ll go back tomorrow for the rest of it.” 

“I’m moving out?” asked Sam. 

“Yep,” answered Bobby. 

“Dad’s going to be pissed,” said Dean. 

“It took some convincing, but he eventually warmed up to the idea,” said Bobby. 

“Before or after you kicked his ass?” asked Sam.

“No ass kicking necessary,” answered Bobby. “Shouting, yeah. But we reached an understanding and you boys are going to stay with me and he’s not going to give us any trouble.” He scratched his beard. “Sam, I assume you’re ok staying here. I don’t mean to kidnap you, but I’ll rest easier knowing you’re safe.” 

Sam shrugged. “Fine with me. Thanks for packing my stuff.” 

“You’re welcome. I’ll take the jeep back to John tomorrow. I’ve got a car you can use. It ain’t sporty, but it’s safe and reliable.” 

Dean knew exactly which car Bobby was talking about. He and Bobby worked on it together. It was a going away present for Sam. 

“Why can’t I just keep Dad’s car? It’s not like he’s sober enough to drive it.”

“That’s true, but the car’s in his name and it’s easier if we just give it back. It’s bad enough I took both his kids, I don’t need to take his car too.” 

“Fine,” muttered Sam. 

“Good,” said Bobby. “Enough belly-aching. Let’s eat.” 

They followed Bobby inside and gathered around the table for dinner.

“I’ll be late again tomorrow,” said Bobby. “I’m going to go into the shop for a while, get some work done. I’ll be back with Sam’s stuff around dinnertime.” 

“I’ll go in with you,” said Dean. He assumed he still had a job. He hadn’t been a terribly reliable employee lately, but Bobby probably wouldn’t hold that against him considering the circumstances. 

“No,” said Bobby. “You’re out on sick leave for a while.” 

“I’m not sick,” said Dean. 

“Boy, I’m offering you paid leave. Don’t argue, just take it.” 

“But I can work,” said Dean. He wondered if this was a punishment. 

Bobby turned to Cas. “You’re his doctor. Is he sick?” 

“Yes,” answered Cas. 

“There you go,” said Bobby. “Your doctor and your boss recommend time off. Quit fussing about it.” 

“Am I fired?” asked Dean. 

“Of course not,” said Bobby. “As long as I’m breathing, you’ve got a job.” 

Dean nodded and looked down at his plate.

“It’s not a punishment,” said Bobby. “Shit. I should probably just tell you.” 

Dean looked up and Sam’s attention snapped to Bobby as well.

“I haven’t fired John yet. I’m letting him throw one fit at a time. Yesterday he was mad about you leaving, today he was mad about Sam leaving, tomorrow he’s gonna be mad about being fired.” 

“No one else will hire him,” said Dean quickly. His dad wasn’t exactly easy to employ. He’d still need income. He relied on Bobby to survive. The whole damn Winchester family relied on Bobby. 

“Who gives a shit?” said Sam. 

“But it’s my fault,” said Dean, “and I can work somewhere else. I can find another job. He can’t.”

Cas didn’t say anything, but he reached over and laid a hand on Dean’s knee under the table.

“It’s not your fault,” said Bobby. “I’ll take care of him. You don’t need to worry.” 

“You’ve got enough to deal with,” said Dean. “I can fix this. I can actually help here.” 

“Let Bobby handle it,” said Cas. His hand was still on Dean’s leg. “He owns the business. It makes sense that he gets to decide who stays and who goes.” 

Dean looked down at the table again. They didn’t understand. Bobby clearly felt obligated to fire John now that he knew the truth. That was Dean’s fault. It was Dean’s fault John was losing his family, his job, his friend. Yes, John hurt him, but only because he thought he was protecting Sam. He shouldn’t be punished for trying to protect his son. John turned out to be right anyway. Dean’s first foray into being gay was a disaster. Dean led Crowley right to Sam. 

“Hey,” said Sam. “Cas is right. This is Bobby’s call.”

“Yeah, ok,” said Dean. He couldn’t argue. He’d never be able to explain what he was thinking and he knew if he started talking he’d just get upset again. He couldn’t do that. He needed one day without a fucking breakdown. He stopped himself earlier, with Cas outside, but only barely and even then Cas knew he was upset. Once upon a time, he was master of hiding in plain sight. Now he had to cower in room because he couldn’t control his feelings. Still, it was better than crying.

Emotions somewhat in check, he looked up from the table. Everyone was watching him. Cas pulled his hand away from Dean’s knee. He reached into his pocket, fiddled with something, then set a blue pill beside Dean’s plate.

“What kind of business do you run, Bobby?” asked Cas. 

Bobby blinked, and looked away from Dean. “Uh, auto repair,” he answered.

“Interesting,” said Cas. “Dean said you used to be in the CIA. What work did you do there?” 

“Classified,” answered Bobby.

“Was it mechanical work?” asked Cas.

“I can’t answer that,” said Bobby.

“Good luck getting anything out of him,” said Sam.

“How did you learn to fix vehicles?” asked Cas.

Bobby sighed. “It was the family business.” 

Dean popped the xanex into his mouth and swallowed it. He focused on the conversation. Cas saved him. Again. 

“So you grew up around cars?” asked Cas. 

“Yep,” answered Bobby. 

“So you have a predilection for mechanics,” mused Cas. “And you learned from your family. Assuming you were not motivated to break from family tradition, your CIA work was probably tangentially related to mechanics.” 

Bobby sat back and crossed his arms. 

“Or,” continued Cas, “the ‘family business’ story is a cover and you learned a new skill once you left the CIA.” 

Dean laughed. He’d never seen anyone outside of their family interrogate Bobby. 

Sam was leaning forward in his chair, watching. “I think it’s true,” said Sam. “Bobby’s last name is Singer and his shop has always been called Singer Auto.” 

“How do you know?” asked Cas. 

“I was curious,” answered Sam. “I looked it up, but it’s been Singer Auto since it was built back in the 70s.” 

“What if Singer isn’t really his last name,” said Dean. 

Sam gasped. 

“That’s enough speculating for one night,” said Bobby. “You boys can sit here and gossip about me. I’m going to grab a beer and see what’s on the TV.” He stood and went to the refrigerator. 

“I’ll join you,” said Dean. He followed Bobby and reached out his hand for a beer.

Bobby hesitated. He glanced at Cas before handing Dean a drink. 

“Can I have one?” asked Sam. 

Bobby sighed. “Yes. _One_. Only tonight.”

“I’ve had beer before,” said Sam.

“God help me,” muttered Bobby. He grabbed two more bottles from the refrigerator. He popped them open and handed one to Sam and slid the other across the table to Cas. “You boys go find something for us to watch. I want to ask the doctor a question.”

“About what?” asked Dean. He knew it was about him, but he wanted to know how Bobby would lie. 

“I got an oozing rash on my back,” he answered. “You want to stand here and see it?”

Sam made a face. “Gross, no.” He tugged Dean’s arm and pulled him into the living room. Once they were out of earshot, he leaned closer. “You eavesdrop,” he whispered. “I’ll put in a movie and you tell me what I missed.”

Dean grinned. “I’m on it.”

Sam picked over the DVDs and Dean crept back to the kitchen. He stood against the wall and listened. 

“It was xanex,” said Cas. “It helps with his anxiety.”

“Can he have alcohol with it?” asked Bobby. “He’s a grown man. I hate to tell him he can’t have something, but I don’t want him doing anything dangerous.” 

“You’re not supposed to have alcohol when you take it,” answered Cas. “But I frequently mix the two. He can have one drink. I’ll watch him and monitor his intake after that.” 

“All right,” said Bobby. “Thanks. It’s damn convenient having a doctor on hand.” 

“I’m happy to help.” 

The movie started playing in the living room. Dean pressed closer to the wall. Sam snuck up and joined Dean in spying. 

“You’re good with him,” said Bobby. “I’m real glad you two found each other.” 

“Um, yes,” said Cas. “Me too.” 

“Have you mentioned filing a report to him? 

“Not yet. I think we’re better off handling this on our own. The law isn’t terribly helpful in these situations.”

“That might be true, but he needs to know it’s an option,” said Bobby. “I’ll talk to him if you don’t want to.” 

“I’ll do it. I can read him better than you can.” 

“That’s not—” began Bobby. He stopped. “Touché. You talk to him. You know what you’re doing.” 

Cas was silent. 

“We should go before those two wander back,” said Bobby.

Dean pulled Sam away from the wall and they hurried back to the living room. They each took a seat and assumed a pose Dean hoped looked comfortable and natural. Bobby and Cas entered the room seconds later. 

Cas sat next to Dean and blushed as soon as they made eye contact. 

After the movie Bobby went to bed and Dean went to take a shower. His thoughts kept drifting back to Cas.


	21. We're a Mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait...Life were declared

Dean sat on the edge of the bed and Cas hovered in the doorway. Dean wanted to sleep curled up next to him again but had no idea how to vocalize that desire. Instead he made awkward eye contact.

“I need to ask you something,” said Cas.

_Please ask if you can stay with me._

“Go for it,” said Dean.

Cas closed the door. “Do you want to report Alastair and the others? I can assist, and I’m certain Bobby can too.” 

“No,” answered Dean. Instead of reaching out to the other man, he felt himself curl inwards, defenses suddenly on high alert. 

“They should pay for what they did,” said Cas. 

“No.” Dean crossed his arms firmly over his chest. He couldn’t imagine repeating the story again, especially not to the police. They’d need details, evidence. Would the examine him? How many old scars did he have? Would he have to explain them, clarify they were from his father not his attacker?

Thinking about it made him sick again. What if he needed a lawyer? What if the case went to court? What if everyone found out what happened? He couldn’t live that life. He couldn’t live with his frailty exposed to strangers and his failures made public. He was already on camera, his humiliation immortalized in a convenient sharable format. 

“All right,” said Cas. “If you change your mind, I can help.” 

Dean nodded, half listening. He wondered how much was on film. How much could people see? How much would they want to see? It was technically porn. He technically agreed to it. 

The smell was back, that awful stench of weakness. He imagined faceless people sitting in dark rooms, their bodies illuminated by the soft blue glow of a screen. They watched him, touched themselves, came as the man on the screen begged and cried out. 

Dean clutched his stomach. He felt hands ghosting over his skin, rough, sticky fingers pressing against him as they touched, then grabbed, then hit – and God, why wouldn’t they stop hitting him? Everything hurt so much already; his back, his chest, his head. Everything ached. 

Then suddenly Cas was there. Not in his mind, but actually there in the room. He was on the floor kneeling in front of Dean and looking up at him with the most sincere expression of concern. 

And God dammit, Dean promised himself one day without a breakdown, one day without crying and leaking his problems into the rest of the world. He was a gaping wound of a human being, bleeding and oozing onto the nice things around him.

And Cas was so close, so fucking close, closer than anyone else. He was stained with Dean’s mess. Every time Dean bled, Cas stepped forward to stem the flow with his bare hands. Dean let him because ultimately Cas was a stranger and it was easier to bloody a stranger than family. He was too kind, too empathetic. Dean was using him. 

Hesitantly, Cas placed his hand on Dean’s knee. That was all it took for Dean to break. He felt the tears, heard himself choke and sob, felt himself slide from the bed and onto the floor in a pathetic, desperate search for comfort.

Cas obliged, of course, and pulled him into his chest. Dean wished he’d met Cas under different circumstances. He wished he’d been braver sooner, had more faith in his family, broken away from John on his own.

Love couldn’t live like this. He wanted Cas to hold him and lie next to him and touch him, not because Dean needed comfort but because Cas loved him. He wanted to close his eyes and believe the way Cas was slowly rocking him in his arms was something Cas wanted as much as Dean did.

Dean couldn’t confess. It was too soon and he had nothing to offer Cas other than nights spent cautiously holding one another. Maybe he’d kiss him again, one day, but not any time soon. Cas would certainly want more and he was entitled to want more.

Cas was running his fingers through Dean’s hair. The touch sent shivers down Dean’s spine and left his body aching for something sweet and more substantial.

Cas pressed a light kiss to his forehead. “Are you all right?” he asked softly. 

“Yeah,” muttered Dean. 

“Is this all right?”

“Yeah.” He heard Cas’ heartbeat, felt the rise and fall of his chest. He wanted more, he wanted so much more. He clutched the t-shirt Cas was wearing. He couldn’t remember the last time someone treated him with this kind of tenderness. If he gave Cas more, sex would replace gentle touches. Grabbing would replace holding. Taking would replace asking.

He looked up at Cas from where he was cradled against the other man. Cas looked down, eyes wide with worry as he licked his lips. He ran a thumb over Dean’s cheek, again wiping his tears with a familiar touch that almost felt ritualistic. 

“I’m sorry,” muttered Dean.

“For?” asked Cas quietly. 

“I’m not like this, not really,” he said. He meant to say he was sorry Cas met him like this. He was sorry Cas never got to see him be strong. He was sorry Cas was left holding the mangled remains of his psyche. He was sorry he missed his chance to be something Cas could love instead of pity. He raised his hand to cup Cas’ cheek. He closed his eyes and imagined they weren’t burdened with the ugliness of reality.

Cas’ thumb brushed over Dean’s lower lip and Dean’s breath hitched. The air was hot and thick between them. Dean’s hand moved to Cas’ hair. He knew better. He knew exactly what message he was sending.

In an attempt to prove himself to his father, he’d made a point of seducing as many women as would have him. As a side effect, sex had become something like a reflex. He knew exactly which moves encouraged and which moves defused and he normally took the lead instead of trembling like a virgin.

Cas kissed his forehead again and a silent scream ripped through him. Suddenly overwhelmed, his fingers tightened in Cas’ hair and he surged forward, his lips crushing against the other man’s. He licked his way into Cas’ mouth, desperate, hungry and delirious. He broke from Cas’ arms and tugged them to their feet. 

He fell back into the bed; pulling Cas down on top of him without any real thought behind his actions and thrust his hips upwards. Cas gasped against his open mouth and pressed himself down against Dean.

Dean barley had time to catch his breath before Cas was kissing him again. Dean rocked upwards again, searching for friction. When his erection pressed against Cas’ something like ice water rippled through his veins and he froze.

Cas moved lower, teeth grazing against Dean’s neck. He stopped suddenly and looked up. “Your heart is pounding,” he said.

For whatever reason, the voice Dean heard was not Cas’. He blinked at the man lying on top of him and waited for the pain. Logically, he knew it was Cas pressing against him, petting his hair, asking him to respond, but his mind was struggling to reconcile fact with fear. 

Cas moved above him. He shifted and slid from the bed back to the floor, kneeling and staring at him with one hand still running through Dean’s hair.

Dean followed him with his eyes. He was pretty sure his lips were moving, but he was also pretty sure he wasn’t actually saying anything. Finally, he managed to breathe out a quiet apology.

“It’s all right,” said Cas. “Do you know where you are?”

“Yeah,” muttered Dean. 

“I’m so sorry,” said Cas. “I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s ok.”

“It’s very clearly not ok,” said Cas.

Dean sighed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Can you tell me what you’re thinking?” 

“I’m not thinking anything,” answered Dean. That was only partially true. He was thinking a lot of things, but he wasn’t thinking anything clear enough to explain himself. He sighed again. “Sorry I pulled you around like that. Forgot about your rib. Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all,” answered Cas. His fingers were still tangled in Dean’s hair. “Quite the opposite, actually,” he added. His cheeks turned pink and he bit his lip.

Dean stared at him, searching his face. He knew how to show his thanks. He knew how he could repay his debt. He knew, now, exactly what Cas wanted.

He felt the muscles in his body go limp. He wasn’t relaxed; he just didn’t have the strength to move. “Can you come back up here?” he asked. He had to ask. Cas wanted him to ask. 

“You’re very pale,” said Cas. “How are you feeling? Do you feel queasy?”

 _Yes._  

Generally speaking he’d been queasy for the past week, if not longer.

Cas pulled his hand away and sat back on his heels. 

“Just come back to bed,” said Dean. 

“Do you want me to turn off the light first?” asked Cas.

It felt like he was stalling, but darkness was too tempting an offer to resist. “Yeah,” muttered Dean.

A moment later the room went black. The bed dipped as the other man settled beside him. Dean wiggled closer to the wall to give Cas room. The movement exhausted him.

“You want to pick up where we left off?” asked Dean. He did his best to seem inviting, but his voice sounded hollow, even to him.

“No,” answered Cas. “I want you to sleep and if anything bothers you, I want you to wake me up.”

No, because Dean was fragile and broken. No, because Dean wasn’t convincing. No, because stench rolling off of Dean’s body was disgusting and Cas could smell it, too. No, because Cas was yet again doing him a favor and his weakness was unappealing. 

“I’m sorry,” muttered Dean. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” said Cas.

“I’m a mess.”

“No, you’re not.” Cas rolled onto his side and through the darkness, Dean saw him wince. 

“Be careful,” said Dean.

Cas froze. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, your rib,” said Dean. “I meant don’t hurt yourself. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you only wince when you think I’m not looking, by the way.”

“I’m fine,” said Cas.

“Then so am I,” said Dean.

Cas huffed.

Dean’s ribs had been broken before. He knew what hurt Cas. Moving probably hurt. The deep breathing exercise he did with Dean probably hurt. Cas’ shoulder was still injured as well. Everything he did for Dean probably hurt.

“All right,” said Cas. He winced again as he sat up. “I’m sore, that’s true. I’m worried you’ll feel guilty if you’re constantly reminded of my injuries, so I’ve been trying to hide it. That’s also true. But,” he continued, “none of this – of anything you’ve been through – is your fault. I want you to feel safe and comfortable, no matter what that takes.”

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. It was too difficult to crave and fear and ache all at the same time. Love couldn’t survive this. The best thing he could do at this point, was let Cas go. Cas wouldn't go on his own, not as long as he thought he was saving Gabriel by taking care of Dean. So Dean had to release him. He had to set him free. 

“You should leave,” said Dean. 

“All right,” said Cas. “I’ll be on the couch if—”

“I meant go home,” said Dean. He was a hurricane. Anyone nearby was doomed to get captured in his storm. Their freedom was his responsibility.

“No,” said Cas.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Dean sat up and glared. “Go home, Cas.”

“Tell me what I did wrong,” he said, scowling back at Dean.

“For fuck’s sake.”

“If you tell me what I did wrong, I’ll leave,” said Cas. “I don’t want to repeat my mistake the next time we see each other.” 

“Next time?” 

Cas’ expression relaxed. He started to say something, then stopped. He seemed lost for a moment. “Yes,” he said finally. “I—” He looked down at his knees, lost again.

Dean looked at him, equally lost.

“I would like to see you again,” said Cas quietly. He looked back at Dean, eyebrows creased together.

Suddenly, the urge to pull him in and kiss him returned. He wanted to take it back, to tell Cas to stay, to tell him it was a lie. At the same time he wanted to push Cas away, leave Bobby and Sam behind, run as far away as he could until his legs gave out or his lungs stopped taking in air.

“Honestly,” said Cas slowly, “I don’t want to leave. That’s selfish, I know, but it’s the truth.”

Dean slumped to the side and rested his forehead against Cas’ shoulder. He wondered how many mixed signals he’d sent in the past 30 minutes; enough for Cas to be angry or at the very least confused. Dean had successfully confused himself. His brain was too tangled up with itself to understand.

But Cas didn’t get angry, instead he wrapped an arm loosely around Dean’s shoulders.

“I’m a fuck up,” said Dean.

“So am I,” said Cas.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“Then I won’t.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” said Dean. “I just freaked out. I don’t know why.” 

“That’s all right.”

“I don’t want you to sleep on the couch, either,” said Dean.

“Then I won’t,” said Cas.

“Sorry for all the mixed signals,” said Dean.

Cas sighed. “You’re not sending mixed signals,” he said.

“Yeah I am. You’re just a really nice guy.” 

“Being ‘nice’ is not synonymous with ‘not being an asshole,’” said Cas. 

Dean felt numb; possibly a reaction to suddenly feeling so much at once. It happened slowly; a creeping realization that parts of him were shutting down until he was too weak to stay upright. His mind was the first thing to go. His head slipped from Cas’ shoulder back down to his pillow. Cas followed him down. 

Dean fell asleep against the other man’s chest. The last thing he heard was Cas whispering good night.


	22. Dad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 22...time to kill somebody

Dean was still numb the next day, and then the day after that. He was numb when Cas left to check on things at his house. He was numb when Cas returned. He was numb when he showed Sam how to change the oil on his new car. He was numb at night when Cas held him and they fell asleep. He was numb and he didn’t break down anymore. 

Things shifted and morphed around him and staying with Bobby turned into living with Bobby. Sam unpacked. Dean didn’t. Cas brought a suitcase over because Bobby asked him to stay for a while. No one heard from John, but Bobby swore he was doing fine, just learning to cope.

Dean thought about his father constantly. He couldn’t decide if he cared or not. He couldn’t decide if what he felt was rage or grief. His body was hollow, detached. The tattered, surviving fragments of who he was had retreated somewhere deep inside of him. They hid behind his eyes, tucked safely in the back of his mind where his feelings couldn’t reach and where his thoughts couldn’t see them.

He watched the world, touched it and interacted with it without actually feeling anything. He didn’t remember when he decided to sequester himself, but as the days went on his body became less of a sanctuary and more of a tomb. Maybe part of him knew what was coming. Maybe he was taking instinctive precautions to ensure his survival in the impending disaster.

Dean had a new phone and a new number and a new set of contacts. But Bobby had been right when he’d said there were many ways to contact someone. He didn’t remember exactly when two cars in Bobby’s driveway became four cars. Bobby’s car was gone during the day. Sam’s car was gone whenever he got the urge to leave the house and be social. Cas’ car stayed parked beside the Impala. They hardly left.

Still, Dean made a habit of checking on the Impala every morning. It wasn’t a job and there wasn’t a good reason, but it gave him the illusion of purpose and that was something he desperately needed. 

He’d checked his car that morning. He’d been surprised to find an envelope and the spare car key waiting for him in the driver’s seat. His name was scrawled across the paper in John’s messy handwriting. Dean knew what his father had done before he opened the letter. He knew because John didn’t have his family anymore. He knew because he’d have done the exact same thing. John was lonely and lost, had been since the day their lives burned down and Mary died.

Dean took the letter and keys and wandered to a place where prying eyes couldn’t see him. Bobby was at work, but Sam and Cas were inside.

Dean made sure no one was watching, and went to hide by the tree that guarded him through his childhood. The letter was three lines long.

**...**

**I’m sorry for everything, son. Take care of Sam. I know you will.**

**...**

He read the words once, then folded the letter back into the envelope. He tucked it and the spare key into his pocket, then headed back to the house.

He didn’t say a word about it to Sam or Cas. They spent the day hanging out. Dean laughed and joked. He made passing glances at Cas, who predictably blushed. He made dinner for everyone when Bobby came home.

That night he curled up next to Cas and waited for him to fall asleep. In the quiet, early hours of the morning, after Cas had rolled away in his sleep, Dean slipped out of bed. 

He took his keys, put the Impala in neutral, and rolled it away from the house. Once he was far enough that the sound of the engine starting wouldn’t wake anyone, he got behind the wheel and shifted into drive. 

* * *

The farm house wasn’t a trigger. Pulling into the driveway wasn’t disturbing. Instead of remembering it as the last place he’d seen his father alive, he remembered it as it was, just a driveway. Opening the door and turning on the lights in the living room wasn’t a trigger and neither was going to the back of the house. 

He checked John’s bedroom first. It was dark and empty. He checked his room and then Sam’s. Both rooms were spotless, probably thanks to Bobby and Rufus. The rest of the house was as he remembered it with the addition of a few more empty bottles 

Dean turned on the light in the kitchen. There were two coffee mugs on the counter and a pamphlet for a local Alcoholics Anonymous group. The room still smelled like coffee and the pot was still warm. Bobby must have stopped by after work. He was probably the source of the AA pamphlet.

John must have dropped the letter and key off last night. He must have had a plan.

Dean went back through the rooms and turned off the lights. He walked to the back of the dark house again and stood outside of the downstairs bathroom. He pushed the door open and waited for his eyes to adjust. 

The shower curtain was closed. John was going to make him get close. Dean paused for a moment. He imagined his father going through the house, turning off all of the lights, then standing in the darkness right where Dean was standing now.

He knew he should feel a sense of urgency. He knew he should have felt a sense of dread when he saw the envelope that morning. He knew he should feel guilty now for not feeling anything.

He pulled back the curtain. John’s body was crumpled in the bottom of the tub, .45 in his lap. The wall behind him was stained and patches of blood were still wet. Even in the darkness, Dean knew the mess was contained to the shower. 

He sat down on the tiled floor and waited to feel something. 

* * *

Cas texted him around 4 a.m. wanting to know where he went. Dean should have told him he’d gone for a drive and would be back soon. He didn’t. His fingers typed out the words “At the house. Dad’s dead” and hit send. He didn’t even feel guilty, even though he knew his text would pull Cas out of bed and send him, panicking, straight to Dean. 

His phone rang and he answered.

“Are you all right?” asked Cas. His voice was measured and even.

“I’m fine,” answered Dean.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” said Cas. “Don’t touch anything.” 

“Ok,” said Dean.

Cas hung up. True to his word, he arrived at the house ten minutes later. How he knew the address was another question for another day. 

“Dean?” Cas’ voice rang through the hall.

“Here,” he answered.

Cas found him. “Can I turn on the light?” he asked. 

“Sure,” answered Dean. “But it’s gross.” His eyes adjusted hours ago. He saw the mess in shades of blue and black. He didn’t need light to know John was dead.

Cas flipped the switch and the blood screamed to life. It covered the shower area, but the spatter didn’t touch the rest of the room. It would be easy to clean later. 

Cas knelt and took Dean’s hand. “Come on,” he said.

Dean couldn’t. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

After a few moments of silence, Cas surrendered and sat beside him. “I left a note for Bobby and Sam,” he said. “I told them we went out for breakfast, then were going back to my house to check on things. I indicated we would return later.”

“Ok,” said Dean.

“I will take care of this,” said Cas. “You can wait here or at my house, whichever you prefer.”

“There’s nothing to take care of,” said Dean. “He’s dead.”

Cas took a shaky breath. “I don’t mean to be insensitive,” he said, “but how thorough were you? Did you wipe your fingerprints from the gun?” 

Dean looked at him. Cas stared, wide-eyed and serious as ever. Dean couldn’t control the manic part of himself that started to laugh. Logically, it wasn’t funny. A reasonable man wouldn’t laugh because his friend thought he was a murderer. A reasonable man would clarify the misunderstanding. Dean was not a reasonable man. He was only able to stop laughing when Cas’ expression morphed from concern to fear. 

“He shot himself,” said Dean, catching his breath.

“All right,” said Cas. “How did you know to check on him?”

Dean rolled his eyes and retrieved the letter from his pocket. He handed it to Cas. “I didn’t kill him,” he said. 

Cas read the note. “When did he give this to you? And how? There isn’t any postage on the envelope.”

“I found it in the Impala this morning.” He frowned and realized it was technically a new day. “Yesterday morning, I guess.” 

Cas sat up straighter and peered at the body in the tub.

“If you’re thinking his body looks too fresh to have died yesterday, you’re right,” said Dean. “He probably did it an hour or so before I got here.”

Cas frowned and looked between Dean and the body. 

“Have you put it together yet?” asked Dean.

Cas was smart. He’d figured it out. It wasn’t hard to guess exactly what John’s plan was.

“He left me the letter yesterday,” said Dean. “Didn’t tell anyone else and kept my note vague but cryptic. Then he waited. I had all damn day to mention it and check on him.” 

Cas’ lips parted and he reached his hand out. 

Dean waved him away. “He even waited for Bobby to drop by. Poor bastard probably sat here thinking Bobby was going to talk to him. Tell him not to do it. I bet he sat here thinking we were all going to show up and see if he was all right. Bet he thought we’d beg him not to do it.”

“You can’t start thinking that way,” said Cas.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “I knew what he was going to do. Granted, I figured he was dead already when I got the letter, so I don’t really feel bad.”

“I think you’re in shock,” said Cas.

“I’m not,” said Dean. “I just don’t care.” 

“We need to go ahead and call the police. I don’t think you should be here—Dean stop.” 

Dean dialed 911 before Cas could snatch the phone from his hand. “I need to report a death,” he said.

Cas was right. They needed to call it in before things became any more suspicious. It was already strange that he’d waited so long to tell anyone. The woman on the phone was calm as she asked for the address. That made Dean calm and it made it easier to lie. He relaxed, let his brain shut down and switch to autopilot.

Time blurred together after that. He let himself cry so that his eyes would be red when the police arrived. He needed to look the part of the grieving son. He took the letter back from Cas and crumpled it so it would look like he read it over and over, like his fathers last words were a treasured thing, like those three lines were words he’d never forget.

He let himself collapse against Cas’ shoulder and by the time the police arrived, he was appropriately distraught. He changed the time that he found the letter. He said it was much later, setting the discovery back to after Bobby had come home from work. The police took statements. An ambulance arrived. John was pronounced dead. Cas called Bobby, who showed up with Sam just as the EMTs were hauling the body out in a bag.

Sam was a wreck. He was heartbroken and angry. Dean still didn’t come back to himself.

Sometime after sunrise, Bobby herded everyone back to his house. Dean let himself calm down; end the show. The living room was quiet. Sam finally stilled after the initial shock. A new reality settled in among them.

Cas stayed by Dean’s side through the entire ordeal. He didn’t question or contradict. He was the only one who’d seen Dean turn from ice to something warm, something feeling. Continuing the trend of their relationship, Cas knew the ugly truth.

Caretaker instinct kicking in, Cas made everyone try to eat something. When appetites failed, he insisted on rest.

Before they parted, Dean found his voice again. He had to tell his family what they needed to hear. He needed to ease their pain. “I found that letter this morning,” he said. Bobby probably felt the guiltiest and needed to hear it the most, but Dean spoke directly to Sam. “I had all day to check on him. I knew what it meant and I didn’t tell anybody.” 

Bobby cursed under his breath. 

Sam stared at him wide-eyed like a child. Sam would always be innocent.

“I lied to the police,” Dean continued. “I figured it would be less suspicious that way.” He sighed, exhaustion finally kicking in. “Point is, I don’t want either of you to think this is your fault. Dad left _me_ the note because he wanted _me_ to be the one to stop him. I didn’t. I’m ok with that.” 

“It’s not—” began Bobby. 

Dean cut him off. “You went above and beyond for us,” he said. “You did everything you could for Dad but he’s been a lost cause since Mom died.”

He turned back to his brother. “Sammy, I don’t know if he told you, but you were the best thing to ever happen to him. He was so proud of you, how smart you are, what you’ve accomplished. He talked about you all the damn time when—”

Sam crossed the room quickly and threw his arms around Dean. “Shut up,” he muttered. “He was an asshole.”

Suddenly Bobby was right beside them. “It’s nobody’s fault,” he said. “It’s not your job to clean up his mess and it’s not your job to patch up his legacy. We’re in this together.”

Somewhere buried deep in his chest, Dean felt something crack. He felt it, if only for a second.

Sam squeezed him tight before letting go. “Together,” he said.

Dean nodded. 

Bobby pulled Cas into the huddle and draped an arm over his shoulder. “We’re all going to get some sleep,” he said. “You boys take care of each other and I’ll take care of everything else.”

They went their separate ways with Cas following dutifully behind Dean.


	23. Starting Over

John Winchester was cremated. His ashes were spread along the river, where Mary’s ashes were spread years before. There was a short service for him at Bobby’s. A surprising number of people showed up to pay their respects. It was a relatively painless ordeal.

Sam continued to experience the full range of emotions. Bobby just seemed disappointed. Dean was still numb.

He found a moment of peace the day after the service. He sat beneath the tree in Bobby’s yard, eyes closed against the bright sun. Cas sat beside him in silence.

He still loved Cas. He sensed the emotion moving in his heart. It called to him like a ghost in the night, but stayed just out of reach. The feeling existed without Dean experiencing it or touching it. Dean wished he could feel again. 

* * *

Days drifted by persistent and unremarkable. The world was unmoved by the death of John Winchester and so was Dean.

Cas found a job and was gone during most of the day. Sam got a part-time job to save money before school started. Dean was home alone for the first part of the day. Bobby wouldn’t let him return to the shop. He seemed to think it was in Dean’s best interest to stay home. 

Dean set a schedule for himself. He made breakfast for everyone in the morning, cleaned the kitchen, vacuumed every other day, and kept the house in general working order. When Sam came home, Dean made lunch. They’d talk for an hour or so, then Dean would retreat to the garage to work on any car or part he could find. 

He’d rebuilt two cars and was working on a third. He heard whispers and saw worried looks from his family in the evenings. He soldiered on, undisturbed. 

He was distracting himself with an engine in the garage when Bobby interrupted. 

“Castiel went to check on his place,” he said. “Told me to tell you he’d be back soon.”

“Ok,” said Dean, not bothering to look away from the metal in front of him.

Bobby sat on the workbench across from him. “Boy, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Go for it.” 

“Put the pliers down first.” 

Dean sighed and set the tool beside him. He looked at Bobby, but did nothing to hide his annoyance.

“I’m worried about you,” said Bobby. “You don’t seem like yourself.”

“I’m bored,” said Dean. “If you’d let me go back to working at the shop, that might help.”

“That might help, but that’s not why I’m here,” said Bobby. “I actually wanted to talk to you while Cas was gone. Is he bothering you? I wanted to keep him around at first because ya’ll seemed like—uh—you got along real well. It felt right having him here. But if he’s bothering you, I’ll send him on his way.”

“Cas doesn’t bother me,” said Dean. They still shared a bed and laughed and joked together, but the thought of Cas leaving didn’t terrify Dean like it once did. Cas went to his house several times a week and his absence became a fact of life. One day, Dean suspected Cas wouldn’t come back.

“You can be honest,” said Bobby. “Nobody can hear us. Sam’s in his room. It’s just us.”

“I am being honest.” 

Bobby sighed and clasped his hands together. “Well something’s wrong. I’d like to know what it is. I think—” He stopped and licked his lips nervously. He sighed again. “I noticed a change before we lost your daddy.”

Dean thought he’d done a better job of masking his indifference in the beginning.

“Do you feel different? Have you noticed any changes in yourself?”

“What are you getting at?” asked Dean. 

“You’ve been through a lot of—um—trauma and I—”

“Trauma?” asked Dean, picking up on Bobby’s word choice. 

“Yeah.” 

“You’ve been talking to Cas.” He wasn’t surprised. He knew they talked.

Bobby ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, I have.”

“About me.”

“Yes.” 

“About how to take care of me.”

“We just— _I_ just want to make sure you’re ok.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” said Bobby.

Dean rolled his eyes. He would be fine if they’d stop poking at his bruises. “Clearly you came out here with a mission. Quit dicking around and get to the point.”

“Don’t snap at me,” said Bobby. “I’m trying to help.”

“Gee, thanks.” 

“Boy, I’m warning you.” 

“What?” demanded Dean. He was on his feet staring down at Bobby before either of the registered the movement. “What are you going to do? I better behave or else you’ll what?” 

“I wasn’t threatening you.” 

“It sure as hell sounded like it.” 

“I don’t want to fight,” said Bobby, holding up his hands. 

Dean huffed. “Don’t hold back on my account. I’m not scared of you.” 

Bobby’s face fell.

Dean heard it as soon as he said it; the little boy arguing with a father he didn’t have – never had. The prospect of a fight fueled him. Anger was safe. He trusted it and it made him strong. But he let the emotion go too far too fast and it got lost in the dark, haunted edges of his thoughts. As quickly as the anger had strengthened him, it turned on him and quickly cut him down.

“I don’t want to fight,” Bobby said again, quieter this time. “I told myself if you got pissed, I’d walk away and leave you be. I’d really rather not do that.”

Dean scrubbed his hands over his face.

“I won’t drag this out,” continued Bobby. “I came out here to tell you that if you want to talk to someone – a professional – I can make you an appointment.”

Dean frowned. 

“Like a shrink,” said Bobby. 

Dean sat down again, his head in his hands.

“We don’t think you’re crazy. We just don’t want to overestimate our ability to help you. We want you to know there’s no shame in seeing someone if you want to.”

We. He buried his problems, but apparently not deep enough. His family found the scent and, like bloodhounds, tracked the emotions back to their graves. He wasn’t fooling anyone. They knew he was broken, but they cared about him. That meant they were going to spend their time putting him back together. They’d waste the rest of their lives on him, Sam and Bobby out of love, and Cas out of guilt. He was a burden, just like John.

He was vaguely aware that Bobby had moved and was now sitting beside him.

“I think,” said Bobby slowly, “if you’d gotten the chance to hit John once, as hard as you fucking could, I think that would have been really therapeutic.” Bobby put a hand on his shoulder. “But he took that away from you.” 

Dean’s vision blurred and he felt tears on his cheeks. A breakdown was inevitable. He should have known he wasn’t strong enough to be stoic forever. He’d always been soft, overly sensitive. John wanted to make him stronger, better. John hit him in hopes Dean would build up a resistance to pain, but it didn’t work. Dean would always feel, always hurt, always bleed.

“It’s all right if you don’t miss him,” said Bobby. “And it’s all right if you _do_ miss him.”

Dean closed his eyes. A tremor ran through him and another little piece of him fractured.

Bobby tightened his hand against Dean’s shoulder. “It’s all right.”

It wasn’t. It couldn’t be all right. Dean opened his eyes. The tremor shook through him again. He felt himself crack. He swallowed hard and forced the leaking emotion back behind the barrier. For the first time in weeks, he realized he didn’t really want to feel anything. He wanted to be numb.

Dean couldn’t find the words to respond. His hands began shaking again. He tried to fight it. He wasn’t ready to break again. Something burst inside of him. He couldn’t control it. He felt himself shatter. Emotions erupted in a fit of chaotic glee. They consumed him, too many to name and too quick to grasp. He choked and clutched at his chest.

He cried. He couldn’t make himself stop. Helpless and weak, he let Bobby pull him into a hug. His body shook. He couldn’t control himself, couldn’t get a grip. Bobby just kept telling him it was all right, but it wasn’t. So much was wrong. 

It was true, what Bobby said about hitting John. That might have fixed the whole problem in some Freudian sense, but it wasn’t an option anymore. The only shield Dean had was indifference, but John died and took that with him, too. 

It mattered. Everything that happened to him mattered in a huge, insurmountable, significant way. He was broken, but he didn’t want to shatter and leave behind pieces for other people to collect and put back into place. He wanted to be better. His family wanted to fix him. The least he could do was make their efforts a luxury and not an obligation.

“I don’t know any therapists,” said Dean quietly. 

“Cas does.” 

“Of course he does.” 

“You don’t have to go,” said Bobby. 

“I think I need help,” said Dean. He needed to be someone else’s problem. Therapists were paid to clean up people like Dean.

“I’ll do anything you need me to do.” 

Dean nodded. “Thanks.” 

Bobby clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re going to get through this.”

He knew Bobby meant it. They’d stick by him until the bitter end. He couldn’t make them wait that long. He had to get better so they could be free.

* * *

Cas laid next to Dean, eyebrows knit together in a way that told Dean he was deep in thought. Their nights were always like this; pressed together and teetering on the edge of something more.

Cas pursed his lips, then finally spoke. “Would you like to move in with me?” he asked.

Dean laughed. “Way to jump right in.”

“Feel free to say no,” said Cas. “But I have to return home eventually. We are essentially living together right now. It made sense to extend an offer.”

“Aren’t you tired of me yet?” asked Dean. 

Cas frowned. “If I was tired of you, why would I ask you to live with me?” 

Dean sighed and let his forehead rest against Cas’. “Because you’re kind,” he muttered. 

Cas cupped his cheek. “I like you,” he said. “Isn’t this what people do when they like each other? Assuming you also like me, of course.” 

“I like you,” said Dean quickly.

 _I love you._  

“I suppose I don’t know the correct protocol,” said Cas. “I’m not sure I’ve done anything that would qualify as ‘dating’ but this feels like the next logical step.”

Dean couldn’t help the grin that spread across his lips. “You want to date me, Cas?”

“Obviously,” he answered. “Do you want to date me?”

“Yeah,” answered Dean. His emotions were still raw from talking to Bobby. He felt his heart beat a little louder, felt something warm in his chest. He bit his lip. Loving Cas meant feeling everything, the good and the bad.

“So is that a yes to moving in? Or is it too soon?” asked Cas. “I think this is traditionally a much larger step in a relationship, but we haven’t really been traditional thus far.” 

“Yeah,” muttered Dean. “We didn’t exactly meet in a coffee shop.” He sighed again. Living with Cas sounded perfect. It was exactly what he wanted. It was what he wanted since the first night they spent together. But living with Cas was a commitment he wasn’t sure he wanted to make. It meant they’d stay together forever or eventually break apart. Forever felt too long and breaking up felt too painful and being together implied other intimate things Dean wasn’t sure he could promise.

“You can say no,” said Cas. “I’ve never wooed anyone before. If this is wrong, you can tell me.”

“I want to say yes,” said Dean. “But I’m still a little fucked up. I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“Are you trying to tell me it’s not me, it’s you?” asked Cas.

“No,” Dean answered quickly. “I mean, it is me, I’m definitely the problem, but I want—um—more, you know?” His heart was pounding and his throat felt tight for no discernible reason. He felt his internal wall repairing itself, blocking out Cas and Bobby and Sam. The words “I want you” dangled from the tip of his tongue before he was able to swallow them back. It wasn’t the relationship that terrified him, it was something else; something he wasn’t ready to name.

“I don’t mean to rush you,” said Cas.

“You’re not,” said Dean. He felt Cas’ disappointment, knew he’d pull away if he didn’t get what he wanted, if Dean didn’t behave. 

“I can slow down,” said Cas. “I suppose I was being a bit selfish. I was trying to find a way to return to my home but still wake up beside you in the morning.” 

No, Cas wouldn’t pull away. He’d stay until Dean forced him to leave because Cas was loyal to a fault. Dean closed his eyes. His thoughts never made sense. He wanted to believe people stayed with him because he made them happy, not because they were afraid to leave him alone with himself. Bobby was right. He needed a shrink, or someone objective to talk to and set his head on straight.

He realized this wasn’t the first time he’d withdrawn from the world, it was just the first time he’d noticed it. When John sent him away Dean was shocked back into his feelings. He was safe with Cas and his emotions took advantage of their new freedom. The numbness wasn’t the change. He was back to himself, back to normal. He hated it.

“Two things,” said Dean, finally finding his voice. “Thing one, Bobby says you know some shrinks or therapists or whatever. Can you give me their numbers?”

“Of course,” answered Cas, surprise evident in his voice. “I’ll check with Anna and see if she still recommends them. I know of a counselor with a very good reputation. I can see if we can get you in soon.” 

“Thanks,” said Dean. 

“What is thing two?”

“Let’s date.”

Cas laughed. “I am very much in favor of that.”

“I mean like normal people date, like dinner and movies and shit.”

“All right.”

“Like, fucked up shit aside,” said Dean. “We’ll start over, clean slate. I’ll buy you flowers and pick you up and open your car door and stuff.”

 _And you can love me instead of pity me,_ he thought. He needed to know if he made Cas happy or if he was just a project.

Cas grinned at him, cheeks bright pink. “And I’ll learn to cook and give you a dedicated draw in my dresser.” 

“We’ll be totally normal.”

“I double we’ll be normal,” said Cas, “but I think we’ll be happy.”

“I can settle for happy,” said Dean. He took Cas’ hand and pressed it to his lips. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could offer. He hoped it could be enough.


	24. First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Head's up...there's no nutritional value to this chapter...it's just shameless fluff...enjoy

Cas knew a counselor and two psychiatrists. He said Anna recommended the counselor, so that’s who Dean went to see. His first appointment arrived and he couldn’t stop fidgeting while he waited for his name to be called. 

Cas officially moved back to his house yesterday. Their first date was tonight and Dean insisted on planning it, despite not actually having a plan. He’d searched the web for first date ideas, but the articles were written for straight couples and the fact that he wasn’t going out with a woman was impossible to ignore. 

It shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t wonder if the world would watch them or if people would shy away from them. Their love shouldn’t be treated like a sickness and Dean shouldn’t want to quarantine himself. 

He told himself over and over again that he was not contagious, not infecting the good, clean people around him. He told himself wanting to be with Cas, to touch him and hold him, was normal and not the product of something dirty and shameful. 

His stomach turned and he leaned back in his chair. He told himself to breathe.

“Dean?” A woman with light brown hair smiled at him from the doorway.

He stood and followed her to her office.

“I’m Ellen,” she said, holding out her hand. 

Dean accepted the handshake. “Nice to meet you,” he said. 

She closed the office door behind them. “Make yourself comfortable.” She pulled out a sheet of paper and a notepad. “What brings you in today?” 

He’d given the receptionist a summary. He was sure Ellen knew the gist. Maybe she wanted to hear it from him. “I think I’m kind of fucked up,” he said. “Maybe depressed? I don’t really know.”

“What makes you think that?” she asked. 

He shrugged. “I’m not sure,” he answered. Suddenly he felt silly. Surely there were people with bigger problems. Surely Ellen had better ways to spend her time. “I don’t hear voices or hallucinate or anything,” said Dean. He half expected her to tell him to leave. 

“You don’t have to hear or see things to feel fucked up,” said Ellen.

She said _feel_ fucked up instead of _be_ fucked up. Maybe she didn’t think he actually needed to be there. Maybe he was overreacting. 

“I guess,” he said. 

“Why don’t you tell me what’s been going on,” she said. 

He nodded. He could start with the facts. “I tried to get into porn,” he said. “I went to this shoot but it kind of went tits up. I guess I got assaulted.” He looked at the ground instead of looking at her. “I’m bi – I just figured that out, or accepted it or whatever. My dad killed himself about two weeks ago. It might have been because I came out.” He felt ridiculous, confessing these things to a stranger.

“That’s certainly a lot to deal with,” she said. 

Dean nodded again. “I guess I’m here because I don’t feel things. Or, I mean I feel things but I can’t really touch the feeling. I don’t want to touch it.” He huffed. “So the obvious answer is to just feel the feeling and stop being afraid of it.” He shook his head and stood. “I’m sorry, I’m wasting your time. I know I need to nut up and deal with my shit.”

Ellen held up a hand. “Hold your horses,” she said. “You’ve paid me for an hour, so even if we sit here and say nothing, you’re not wasting my time. If you want to leave, that’s up to you but it just means I get an early lunch break.” 

Dean chewed on his lower lip. Hesitantly, he returned to his seat.

Ellen smiled at him.

“I don’t really know what to do,” said Dean. 

“We can just talk,” said Ellen. “Or we can sit here quietly. I have music if you want to listen to something.” 

“I should talk,” said Dean. It was the whole reason for the appointment. 

“But?” asked Ellen.

“But I don’t really want to,” he answered. “Like, yeah, a lot of crap has happened lately but I’m sick of thinking about it.”

“We don’t have to talk about the bad stuff,” said Ellen. “We can discuss anything you want.”

Dean knew exactly what he wanted to talk about, but again it felt like a waste of time. 

Ellen waited patiently for him to make a decision.

“What if I just want to talk about dumb stuff?” he asked.

“It’s your appointment,” she answered. “We can talk about anything.”

“I’ve got a date tonight,” said Dean. “What if I want to talk about that?”

“Sounds good,” said Ellen. “Let’s talk about it.”

“It’s a date with a guy.” 

Ellen nodded and seemed to be waiting for the rest of the story. She wasn’t taking notes at the moment. She wasn’t writing down that Dean liked men and that was the source of his problems.

“He kind of saved me,” continued Dean. “I was—I couldn’t move and—” He couldn’t finish that sentence. “The point is, there was this other guy and he was—um—attacking me—and Cas stopped him. His name is Cas, by the way. Technically it’s Castiel, but his nickname is Cas.” He felt heat rising in his cheeks. 

“And Cas is the man you’re going out with tonight?” asked Ellen.

“Yeah,” answered Dean. He couldn’t give more details without telling her personal and potentially incriminating information about Cas. “I was living with my dad, but he kicked me out. I stayed with Cas for a while then we kind of moved in with my uncle. Not my real uncle. He’s an old friend of my dad’s. His name’s Bobby.”

There were too many things to tell her. He needed to start from the beginning. He knew he wasn’t making sense.

“Are you two still living with Bobby?” she asked.

“No,” answered Dean, pulling away from his thoughts. “Cas moved back to his place. We’re starting over since we met under weird circumstances.”

Ellen nodded and Dean kept babbling. Thirty minutes later he was feeling less like an idiot and a little more comfortable. He told her he was taking Cas to the natural history museum since he seemed to like dinosaurs. After that he’d made dinner reservations. He told her he was nervous and that he’d never been out with a man before. He confessed that the museum was about 40 minutes out of town but the restaurant was local and he was worried people he knew would see him.

He knew it was wrong to be afraid, and he told her being afraid felt like he was betraying Cas. He wanted to be brave. Cas deserved someone brave.

Ellen was kind and understanding without being overly saccharine. By the end of the session, he’d cried once but managed to keep himself together. This was a safe place to be weak. No one was at risk if he broke down or couldn’t handle himself. 

Her office was built for blood. It was a place where strangers came to rid themselves of problems and walk away from the mess left behind. He wondered if Ellen got to leave her problems behind as well, or did they follow her home?

She waited for him to dry his eyes and blink away the evidence of his tears before she walked him back to the waiting room. She hugged him gently and spoke quietly before letting him go. 

“I hope to see you again,” she said. 

Dean couldn’t commit to coming back, so he just nodded and gave her a half smile. He wasn’t fixed, but he did feel better. He made another appointment for the following week, just in case he decided to return. 

* * *

Dean stood in front of Cas’ door. He ran his hands down the front of his button down shirt and hoped he looked respectable. He knocked.

Cas answered the door immediately. He was wearing a full suit. His hair was a mess and his face was bright red. “I bought flowers,” he said quickly. 

“For what?” 

“I have no idea,” answered Cas. He disappeared behind the door and returned with a dozen roses wrapped in brown paper. “They were for you,” he said. “You mentioned buying flowers the other day, but then I realized you were probably making a joke, but I bought them anyway. I don’t know why. I suppose they’re still for you.” 

Dean took the flowers and suppressed a laugh. 

Cas sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Come on, Romeo,” said Dean. He took Cas’ hand and led him to the car. Cas being nervous made Dean weirdly calm. He opened the car door and grinned as his date settled inside. 

“Am I over-dressed?” asked Cas. 

“I don’t know,” answered Dean. He backed out of the driveway and set a course for the museum. “Am I over-dressed?” 

“No,” answered Cas. “You look very nice.” 

“So do you,” said Dean.

Cas fidgeted with his tie.

“Dude,” said Dean. He grabbed the other man’s hand and squeezed it. “Relax. It’s me.”

Cas almost smiled. “Right,” he said. “Where are we going?” 

“It’s a surprise,” answered Dean. “It’s kind of lame, but it’s still a surprise. I made a dinner reservation for later.” 

“You made a reservation?”

“Yeah.”

For some reason that made Cas blush harder. 

“Did you miss me this morning?” asked Dean.

“Yes,” answered Cas. After a moment, he frowned. “Are we pretending like we don’t know each other or are we just continuing our narrative?”

Dean laughed. “I’m up for whichever option will make you relax.”

“Sorry,” muttered Cas.

Dean cleared his throat. “So, where are you from?”

“New York. Where are you from?”

“Kansas. What do you like to do for fun?”

Cas squinted at him before the realization dawned. “Oh,” he said, sitting up a little taller. “I am training for my black belt.” 

“That’s pretty cool,” said Dean. “Is that job related, or just for kicks and giggles?”

Cas pursed his lips. “It’s a hobby, but I suppose it could be beneficial to my line of work.”

“Where do you work?”

“Home,” answered Cas, then he shrugged. “I can work anywhere. I sell illicit narcotics.” 

“Wait, really?” asked Dean, breaking character. He should have guessed, but it was still surprising.

“Yes,” answered Cas. “Are we still pretending we don’t know each other?”

“No,” answered Dean. “I legitimately didn’t know that about you.” 

Cas finally smiled. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.” 

“Sam and I got lost in the woods for a couple hours when we were in elementary school.”

“Why?” 

“Sam thought he saw Bigfoot,” answered Dean. “Dad had just given us these crappy little slingshots and we thought we could hunt it down and trap it.”

Cas snorted. 

“Your turn,” said Dean. “Tell me something else about you.” 

“I don’t know how to swim.” 

“How is that possible?” asked Dean. “You’re a grown ass man.” 

Cas shrugged. “I never wanted to learn.” 

Dean shook his head. “I’m going to teach you,” he said. Without realizing it, he’d planned their third date. Cas suggested they switch off to keep either of them from feeling too much pressure.

They continued swapping tidbits of information until Dean pulled into the museum parking lot.

Cas’ face lit up. “I love this place,” he said. 

“Yeah? I’ve never been, but I thought it might be fun.” 

“You’ve never been here?” Cas was already out of the car. The door shutting muffled the rest of his sentence. 

Dean hurried to follow him into the building. He barely beat his date to the front desk.

Cas made a quiet noise of protest when Dean paid for their admission. 

“You get the next one,” said Dean. “This date is mine.” 

“Fine,” muttered Cas. He pointed to a corner where a group was forming. “Do you want to do the official tour or the unofficial tour?” 

“Which one is better?” 

“I’m not sure if one is _better_ than the other,” he mused, “but the official tour guide is that nice woman over there and the unofficial tour guide is me.”

“Unofficial it is,” said Dean. “Lead the way.”

Without hesitating, Cas grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the first exhibit. He was explaining something about eons, but Dean was suddenly very distracted by their entwined fingers. 

“There is a larger graphic of the geologic time scale down the hall,” said Cas. “It’s much easier to read.” At the next exhibit, Cas released his hand and began pointing to different parts of a large mural. “We’re in the Cenozoic era,” he said. 

Dean listened until Cas took his hand again and pulled him to the next exhibit. He asked questions and made comments to prove his was paying attention, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that he was out in public with is very obvious and very oblivious boyfriend.

Cas made sure they saw everything and led Dean through the exhibits in chronological order, only skipping the T-Rex statue because he wanted to “save the best for last.”

They stayed in close contact for the entire two hours it took to explore the museum. Dean let Cas lead him around and every time Cas grabbed his hand, his heart beat a little faster. He didn’t drop his guard. At any moment someone could decide to pick a fight or endanger the moment of normalcy. Dean kept silent watch; prepared to defend on the off chance someone threatened them.

By the time they reached the T-Rex, Dean realized how willing he was to fight for the man enthusiastically pointing out the size of the dinosaur’s head.

“New evidence suggests the tyrannosaurus rex had feathers,” said Cas.

“Like bird feathers?”

Cas nodded and launched into an explanation. Dean grinned and for a moment the other people disappeared and it was just the two of them in the room.

They left the museum and Dean was in a daze. Cas owned him. During the drive back, Cas continued to babble, talking more than Dean had ever heard him talk before. With every word Dean fell a little more in love. 

At the restaurant Dean made a point to take Cas’ hand again, daring anyone to challenge their relationship. He caught a few raised eyebrows, but no one said anything. 

Cas nudged his shoulder as they followed the waitress to their table. “You don’t need to worry,” he said.

“I’m not worried,” said Dean.

“Your vice-like grip on my hand says otherwise.”

“Sorry.” 

They took their seats and placed drink orders. When the waitress left, Cas leaned forward to speak quietly across the table. “No matter what happens,” he said, “I’ve had a wonderful time with you.” 

“That’s cryptic,” said Dean. 

“I know, but I thought it should be said. It’s not that I think something bad is going to happen. I just want you to know I don’t regret anything and that I enjoy my time with you.” 

Dean tried to snuff out his automatic sense of impending doom and just appreciate what Cas was saying.

“Of course, I wish we’d met under different circumstances,” added Cas.

“Yeah, but you made a hell of an impression,” said Dean. “On me and those other assholes.” 

“About that,” said Cas.

The waitress returned with their drinks. She’d be back to take their orders.

Dean waited for her to leave. “About what?” he asked. 

“It just so happens Crowley and his associates were also drug trafficking,” said Cas. “They were arrested last week and are being held without bail.” 

Dean almost choked on his drink. “Seriously?” he asked.

“Yes,” answered Cas. “There is some bad news, but I’m reluctant to bring it up during our date.” 

“Out with it,” said Dean.

“As far as I can tell, they haven’t arrested Alastair. I saw an article about it this morning. Police are searching for someone who fits his description but they haven’t released a name.”

“That’s great news,” said Dean.

Cas tilted his head.

“I didn’t expect any of them to do time. I just accepted they’d joined the world’s free-roaming herd of douchebags. I can’t believe they got—” He frowned, catching himself before crediting some karmatic force. “You didn’t have anything to do with them getting caught, did you?” 

“Not at all.” 

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Was it Bobby?” 

Cas stared at him and very deliberately shook his head. “No.” 

“You’re a terrible liar,” said Dean. “Why do you even try to lie to me? I can tell when you’re bluffing. What did Bobby do? 

Cas shrugged. “I don’t know anything for sure,” he said. “He asked where he could obtain schedule one drugs; I gave him some names, then Crowley and his nefarious cohorts just happened to get caught with the same drugs Bobby was searching for.” 

“That sneaky bastard,” muttered Dean.

“It’s possible he intervened.”

“Yeah, you think?” Dean ran a hand through his hair and wondered how far Bobby’s vigilante streak went. 

“The waitress will be back soon,” said Cas. “We should decide what to order.”

Dean agreed. He quickly decided on some gourmet something that sounded suspiciously like a cheeseburger. Cas ordered pasta something. The waitress returned and took their orders and Dean went back to questioning his boyfriend. 

“What exactly did you sell Bobby?” he asked. 

“ _I_ didn’t _sell_ him anything,” said Cas. “I simply provided him with information. He specifically said he didn’t want to buy anything from me.” 

“Probably to keep your hands as clean as possible. What else did he say?” 

“He told me not to ask any questions, so I didn’t.” 

Dean put his face in his hands. “Oh my god,” he muttered. “He set them up.” 

Cas shushed him. “I don’t think we’re supposed to know that and I’m positive we aren’t supposed to say anything.”

“How long ago did he ask you?” 

“A few weeks.” 

“And you didn’t tell me?” 

“There was nothing to tell until now,” said Cas. 

“Does Sam know?” 

“I doubt it.”

“Is Alastair missing or is he _missing_?”

Cas tilted his head to the side. “What are you implying?” 

Dean leaned closer. “Do you think the cops can’t find him because he took off, or do you think Bobby’s holding him in a shed somewhere?” 

“Oh,” answered Cas. He shrugged. “You know him better than I do. Is he capable of holding someone hostage?” 

Dean frowned. “I legitimately don’t know the answer to that.” 

“I don’t think we should worry about it either way.” 

“Then why’d you say it was ‘bad news’ that he hasn’t been caught yet?” 

“Because he’s a terrible person and he should be locked away somewhere,” answered Cas. “He doesn’t deserve to be free.” 

“Jesus,” muttered Dean. 

“It didn’t occur to me that Bobby could have ‘taken care’ of him.” 

“I’ll ask him,” said Dean. 

“He won’t tell you, and he shouldn’t. You don’t need to know.” Cas cleared his throat. “On a different subject, when can I schedule our next date?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Real smooth.” 

“Or we can continue to discuss crimes your uncle may or may not have committed.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m free whenever,” he said. 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Yeah. Isn’t that kind of soon after this date? Aren’t we supposed to wait?”

Cas huffed. “Dean, I don’t know where you get your rules for dating and relationships, but I really don’t care what we are ‘supposed to do.’ I know what I _want_ to do. Do you know what you _want_ to do?” 

Dean thought for a moment. “Yeah,” he answered.

“Do you want to go out again tomorrow or do you want to wait?”

“Tomorrow. Do you already have a plan?”

“Yes.” 

“What is it?” 

“I’m not going to tell you,” said Cas. “You didn’t tell me, so that seems fair. But there’s no need to dress up.” 

“You gonna buy me flowers again?” teased Dean.

Cas blushed and covered his face with his hands. “I panicked.” 

Dean grinned. They talked through dinner and dessert. Dean took Cas home and awkwardly walked him to his door. He kissed Cas on the cheek, dropped his keys and nearly tripped going back to the Impala. Cas was still giggling when he backed out of the driveway. 

When he got home, he set the flowers on the kitchen table then retreated to his room. To their credit, Sam and Bobby didn’t press him for details. 

He woke up before anyone else the next morning. He told himself it was because he went to bed early, not because he already missed Cas. Bleary-eyed, he wandered into the kitchen to find the flowers from last night neatly arranged in a vase in the center of the table.


	25. Second Date

Dean carried two car batteries back to the garage. His current project was almost finished. It wasn’t pretty or exciting – an old Toyota with body damage and dead or dying parts under the hood – but it kept his hands busy.

He set the batteries on the ground near the car and searched for the multimeter. He could have sworn he left it on hood. 

Cas was due to arrive in about an hour. Dean should have been taking a shower and scrubbing oil stains from his hands instead of crawling around the garage searching for gadgets. He didn’t sleep last night. There was a knot in his stomach and he had to actively remind himself he was going to do something he enjoyed. He wanted to see Cas. Cas was his boyfriend. Dean had a boyfriend. 

He flinched as phantom pain struck the center of his back. He had to sit down. 

He crawled into the backseat of the Toyota. The air inside was heavy and stale. He lay down across the seats, knees scrunched up against the door. Everything hurt. His body was exhausted and sleep-starved. His hands started shaking, a reaction that didn’t surprise him anymore. He clinched his fists and waited for the feeling to pass. It didn’t help. He needed to get ready. Cas couldn’t see him like this again. 

He’d done so well yesterday. He was strong yesterday, a little paranoid, but overall he was good and Cas had fun and no one had to take care of him. 

No, that wasn’t true. He’d talked to Ellen yesterday; spread his sickness to an innocent stranger. But he paid her for her trouble. It was part of her job. It was an honest transaction. 

He forced himself to inhale and exhale. He needed to at least take a shower; clear his head.

He spent the next half hour on autopilot. Sam was out with friends and Bobby was working late at the shop. There was no one around to witness Dean’s vacant stare or the few panicked seconds when he came back to himself.

When he finally managed to settle back into his body, he was dressed and pacing in front of the door. A car pulled up and he wondered if it would seem over-eager to go outside. He decided he didn’t care. He opened the door then froze like he’d never seen another human before.

Cas approached him instead of waiting for Dean to go to the car. He examined Dean and when he got closer, reached out to brush damp hair from his forehead. His brow furrowed. “Good to know I’m not the only one with control problems,” he said. 

“What?” 

“You were in charge yesterday and I was somewhat terrified. I’m in charge today and you—well you don’t seem comfortable.” 

Without thinking, Dean grabbed Cas by the hand and pulled him into the house. He kicked the door closed behind them and pulled the other man into a kiss. He felt fear, panic and shame, but he also felt how warm Cas’ body was against him. He felt the way Cas’ hands gripped at his shirt, the way his tongue licked at his lips and his heart beat through his chest and into Dean’s. 

They stumbled backwards until Cas was pinned between Dean and the wall. Cas wrapped a hand around the back of Dean’s neck then threaded his fingers in his hair and pulled him closer. His other hand settled on Dean’s chest over his heart.

Dean pulled back to gasp for air and Cas quickly released his grip. His mind was racing and a thousand voices were screaming at him. Instead of listening, he looked into the wide, blue eyes staring back at him.

He leaned in again and gently pressed his lips to Cas’. He had no explanation for himself. Cas ran his fingers through Dean’s hair; touched his cheek and hummed softly. Dean wondered what life would be like when Cas was gone. 

“I hate to ruin the moment,” said Cas, “but your brother is due to return shortly.” 

“How do you know?” 

Cas smirked. “He may or may not have been my accomplice for the better part of the afternoon.” 

“Why?” 

“I needed insider information.” He frowned, glanced down at Dean’s lips, then paused before leaning to kiss him quickly. “Come on,” he said. “We’re sort of on a schedule.” 

Dean followed Cas to the car and failed to nag any information out of him. When they pulled into the driveway of Castiel’s house, Dean raised an eyebrow and waited for an explanation. Cas remained tight-lipped. He followed the other man into the house feeling as if he was missing something obvious. 

Halfway through the living room Cas stopped and suddenly seemed nervous. “I had an idea of how I would present this to you, but now it seems somewhat idiotic,” he said. 

“I’m up for idiotic ideas,” said Dean. 

“Would you mind—um—would you close your eyes and follow me?”

Dean closed his eyes. “I don’t really get why I need to. I mean I know where we are.” 

Cas took his hands and led him carefully through the house. Dean knew they entered the kitchen when the feel of the floor changed from carpet to tile. 

“Wait here,” said Cas, “and don’t peak. Please.” 

Dean waited and moments later Cas returned. He slipped something soft over Dean’s head and it hung around his neck. Then something tugged on either side of his waist and Dean realized Cas was tying an apron around him. He grinned, thoroughly entertained by Castiel’s specific brand of weird. 

“All right,” said Cas. “Open your eyes.” 

Dean opened his eyes and confirmed his own suspicions. They were in the kitchen and he was wearing an apron. Cas was beet red and chewing on his lower lip. The table was set and two unlit candles were placed in the center.

“I thought you could teach me to cook,” said Cas. “I bought steaks. Sam said that’s your favorite thing to cook.”

Dean glanced at the stove. A familiar looking cast iron skillet was sitting beside it. 

“Sam brought it over here before we went shopping,” said Cas. 

“Shopping?” asked Dean, still putting the pieces together. 

“Yes,” he answered. “I wanted to make sure I got everything right.” He eyed Dean and shifted his weight nervously. “This is stupid. It seemed like a better idea in my head.”

“This is awesome,” said Dean. He went to the refrigerator to see what Cas and his brother had purchased. “What are we having for sides?”

Cas approached and pointed to the counter. “We got baking potatoes and snow peas and carrots. Sam said that’s what you usually make.”

“Did you guys get honey?” 

“Yes.” 

“Chives?” 

“Yes.” 

“Unsalted butter?” 

“Yes,” said Cas. “We double checked to make sure it was unsalted. Is that the right brand? We weren’t sure. We also weren’t sure about the steaks. We had to enlist the help of someone from the meat counter.” 

Everything was right. Of course it was right. It was perfect. Dean closed the refrigerator and turned to Cas, mouth open but suddenly at a loss for words. Cas spent the entire day hanging out with his little brother. Sam liked Cas enough to keep it a secret. They must have planned it together. The skillet was Bobby’s, so he was probably in on it as well. Cas wasn’t just trying to win over Dean; he was winning over his whole damn family. 

“Your expression is making me nervous,” said Cas. “Is this good or bad?” 

“Does Bobby know you took his pan?” asked Dean. 

“Of course,” answered Cas. “He volunteered it.” He tilted his head, probably still waiting for Dean to elaborate. “I paid for everything – if you’re wondering – I only took Sam with me as a consultant.” He shifted his feet again. “You don’t have to cook, if you don’t want to. I just—I find it very—um—well, frankly it’s a very ‘sexy’ quality.” His cheeks somehow turned redder. 

Dean grinned. He crossed the kitchen and pulled Cas into his arms, still unable to find the right words for the moment. 

“So this is a good thing?” asked Cas, nuzzling against Dean’s neck.

“It’s a very good thing,” answered Dean. He cupped Cas’ cheek and kissed him. 

Cas relaxed in his arms. When they broke apart his cheeks were light pink and he was smiling. 

 _I love you_ buzzed on the tip of Dean’s tongue. He kissed Cas’ cheek to keep himself from saying it. For some inexplicable reason, all he wanted to do was hold onto the other man, keep him close, feel the rise and fall of his chest, touch him, taste him.

The muscles in his chest clenched around his heart and he had to keep himself from pushing Cas away. Dean wanted this and that wasn’t a bad thing. 

“Screw cooking,” mumbled Cas. “Let’s just stay here and do this.” 

Dean laughed. “We can do this after we cook,” he said. “Come on, I’m going to teach you how to use the stove without starting a fire.”

While Dean prepared the meal, Castiel more or less impeded the process. Dean found himself either distracting Cas or being distracted _by_ Cas. He’d changed the dynamic when he pinned Cas against the wall earlier. There was less tension between them and more “accidental” touches. At one point, while he was watching Dean sauté the vegetables, Cas wrapped an arm around his waist and absentmindedly created patterns against Dean’s shirt with his fingertips. Later, while he stood behind Cas and showed him how to ladle butter onto the meat, Dean leaned down and kissed his neck. Cas became so flustered he nearly dropped the spoon. 

It was strange, interacting with another man without the threat of consequence. Unfortunately the fear of consequence was ever-present, however irrational it was. He didn’t flinch when Cas touched him, but he didn’t relax either. Cas’ house was a sanctuary, but the world outside was cruel and predatory. It lay in wait for now, but one day it would pass judgment and one day there would be repercussions for their stolen peace. 

* * *

After dinner Cas revealed a second surprise in the form of a pie from a local bakery Dean didn’t even know existed. 

“Sam said of all desserts, you love pie the most,” said Cas, “and of all pies, you love apple the most.” 

“Sam’s right,” said Dean. They sat side by side on the couch. When he leaned over to kiss Cas he tasted like cinnamon and tart, crisp apples. He kissed him again to quell another urge to confess his feelings. Love, as it turned out, was a persistent and impatient emotion. 

After dessert, Dean insisted on cleaning up the kitchen. Cas helped, but only to speed the process along and spent most of the time declaring the room clean when it clearly wasn’t.

With nothing left to distract them, Cas pulled Dean back to the couch. They picked a movie, then curled together, quiet and content. As the movie progressed they slid into a more relaxed position with Dean settled against Cas’ chest. He didn’t want to be comfortable tucked into Cas’ arms, but he was. 

First he scolded himself for taking the woman’s position, then he scolded himself for comparing their relationship to something it wasn’t. He reminded himself he wasn’t dirty and what they were doing wasn’t something shameful. 

His thoughts stopped spiraling when Cas pressed a kiss to the top of his head and began running his fingers through Dean’s hair. His eyes fluttered and he lost himself in the sound of Castiel’s heartbeat.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” asked Cas. 

“Yeah,” answered Dean. 

“Good,” said Cas. “You are welcome to use anything here you need.” 

Dean had a bag packed, technically a go-back, but it was tucked away in the trunk of the Impala. He packed it after settling in at Bobby’s. He never wanted to be caught without a backup plan again.

“Dean,” said Cas, a subtle hesitation in his tone. 

“Yeah?” 

“I may have overstepped.”

Dean craned his head back to look up at Cas. “What’d you do?” 

“Technically Sam did it, but I was complicit in the plan.”

“Out with it.”

“He— _I_ made you a drawer.” 

Dean sat up and turned to face Cas. “A drawer?” 

Cas shifted in his seat. “Yes. Sam stole a few of your things and I bought a few things and now you have a drawer. Well, technically two drawers; one in the bathroom and one in my room.” 

Dean couldn’t explain why his initial reaction wasn’t something joyful. He couldn’t explain why his throat closed and his mind went blank. He loved Cas. He wanted to stay with him. He wanted to curl up beside him every night and wake up to him every morning. He was beyond thrilled that Sam approved. He was relieved Cas wanted him as much as he wanted Cas. He should be happy. 

Instead, the news of two drawers sent a jolt of adrenalin through his veins. He stood. 

“Is that—was that wrong?” asked Cas. “I don’t mean to pressure you or anything. I suppose I got carried away.”

“It’s ok,” said Dean. 

“It clearly isn’t.” 

“I need to think about this for a second.” 

Cas stood too. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just wanted to be prepared. I thought since Sam approved—” 

“Quit blaming Sam,” snapped Dean. 

“I’m not blaming anyone,” said Cas, brow furrowed. “I didn’t realize this was such an offense that it constituted blame.”

Dean shook his head. This was it. This was where Cas would see how truly damaged Dean was. This was the moment Cas would regret caring about him. This was the end because Dean was damaged, unstable and unreliable.

“Talk to me,” said Cas. “I was more or less joking when I said I’d overstepped. I didn’t think this would actually be a problem. Please tell me what went wrong.” 

“I need to get some air,” said Dean. “Don’t follow me.” He went to the door, but Cas blocked him.

“Don’t leave like this,” he said.

“I’m not leaving, I just need some air.”

“Bullshit. You’re going to walk out that door and you’re going to run.” 

That was exactly what he was going to do. “Move, Cas,” he said. 

“No.” 

“I don’t want to fight with you. Let me go.”

“We’re already fighting,” said Cas. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “I think I deserve to know what we’re fighting about.” 

“I don’t know,” snapped Dean. “I’m crazy. I don’t have a reason. You and Sam put some of my stuff over here. Cool. No big deal. Good for you guys.” 

“Are you mad because we took your things?” 

“No. Just let me out of this fucking house. I need some air.” 

“You’re going to run.” 

“So you’re going to force me to stay here?” 

Castiel rubbed his temples. “Fine,” he spat, stepping aside. “Leave.” 

Dean brushed past him without another word. He was a block away from the house before he realized Cas was right, he did plan to run away. He kept walking, mind blank and body numb. An hour later, he wasn’t any closer to figuring out why he was so angry. 

At some point he’d turned around and began walking back to the house. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional or by accident, but he didn’t change course. When he got back, there was an unfamiliar car in the driveway. As he approached the house, he heard a woman’s voice in the house. 

The sound was muffled. Dean crept to a side window. Dark shadows hid him from neighborhood onlookers and he could clearly hear the people talking inside. 

“Fuck him,” said the woman. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I need to look for him,” said Cas. “I should have called his brother.” 

“You’re not his keeper,” she said. “I don’t care how broken he is, he’s not your responsibility. He’s a big boy. He can fend for himself.”

“He’s had a fucked up life.” 

“So have you. You got your shit together. You figured it out.” 

“He doesn’t have the same resources I have.” 

“He’s got a brother and an uncle, right? And they both love him?” 

“Yes, very much.” 

“Then fuck him. That’s more than we ever had. You can’t save the world, Castiel. Just because you’ve had a little bit of good luck doesn’t mean you have to be a saint and take on every charity case that comes your way.” 

“He’s _not_ a charity case,” growled Cas. 

“Then why the fuck are you trying to rehabilitate him?” 

“I’m not.” 

“Then what are you doing?” 

“I enjoy his company and I want to help him.” 

The woman was quiet for a moment. Dean risked standing taller to peer into the window. Cas was pacing. The woman was standing across the room with her feet firmly planted. She had light brown hair, blue eyes and a scowl that must have been hereditary. Dean had seen it many times on Cas, once on Michael and now on the woman. She had to be Anna. Dean ducked back down.

She said something, but it was too quiet for him to make out. The exchange continued at a low volume for about a minute then Cas must have said something to ignite her rage.

“He’s not Gabriel,” she shouted. “Gabriel is dead and there’s nothing we can do about it. Saving him won’t bring our brother back.”

“Fuck you,” shouted Cas. His voice shook and Dean couldn’t remember hearing him use that tone before. “Not everything I do is because of Gabriel.” 

“You shot your CO because he called somebody a fag,” snapped Anna. 

“I was high.” 

“Because of Gabriel.” 

“No, because I _like_ being high.” 

Dean risked looking in the window again. They weren’t facing him and he was partially concealed by the curtain. 

Anna threw her hands up. “What the fuck, Cas? What are you doing? You’re dealing again. You’re using again. You fucking whipped your gun out again. You moved in with another crazy asshole and didn’t even tell me.” 

“It’s not like that.” 

“Then what is this? It sounds like Dean needs professional help. You’ve got enough on your plate.”

“I love him,” said Cas.

“Do you? Or do you love feeling like you’re useful to him?” 

At that Cas crumpled back onto the couch, his face hidden in his hands. 

Anna knelt on the floor in front of him. “Let him go,” she said. “He’s just another Balthazar. Neither of them meant to be assholes, but they’re too broken to stand without a crutch. People like that will use you as long as they can. They’ll use anybody.” 

“Dean is different.” 

“He’s not,” said Anna. She pulled Cas’ hands away from his face and held them in her own. “You are the kindest, most honest, loyal person I’ve ever known. You have a grace about you and people gravitate to it. That’s not your fault, but you do need to set boundaries.” 

“I love him,” said Cas again. 

“Does he love you?” 

“I think so.” 

“Then why did he lose his shit over a damn dresser drawer? Why is he dragging his feet with your relationship? Why did he try to kick you out of his uncle’s house?”

“He’s afraid.” 

“He’s guilty.”

Cas didn’t answer. He closed his eyes and pulled his hands away from Anna.

She stood and sat next to him on the couch. “I won’t let anyone else hurt you,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “Fuck the world. It’s cold and lonely and people are assholes, but we’re strong. You can count on me and I can count on you.”

Cas nodded.

Dean backed away from the window. He crept away from Castiel’s house without looking back. His mind was quiet except for the echo of Anna’s words. She’d stripped him, seen the nastiest parts of him without even meeting him in person. He was needy and selfish. It was a shameful secret he thought only John knew. He was wrong. If Anna saw it, maybe everyone else did, too. Maybe Bobby and Sam were blind. Maybe he’d tricked them, convinced them he was something good. Or maybe they knew and pitied him. 

He walked until his feet hurt, but by then he was too close to Bobby’s to justify calling someone to pick him up. He reached the house and quietly went inside. It was late and everyone else was asleep. He went to his room and got in bed without bothering to change.


	26. Out loud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up...Dean talks about when John hit him

Dean sat at the table in the kitchen with his arms crossed over his chest. They lured him in with bacon and pancakes then trapped him with the very conversation he wanted to avoid.

Cas texted Sam last night. He told him he and Dean had a fight and that Dean left. He was apparently checking to make sure Dean got home safely. 

“You don’t have to tell us what the fight was about,” said Bobby, “but you’ve got to give me something. Did you walk all the way back here?” 

“I got a cab,” lied Dean. He didn’t need to lie. He was a fucking adult, but Bobby was over-compensating for years of missed parenting opportunities and he’d probably find fault with Dean wandering across town at night. 

“You should have called me,” said Sam.

“It was late,” said Dean. 

“Did he do something to hurt you?” asked Bobby. “Just say the word and I’ll take care of it.” 

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you find your drawer?” he asked. 

“I don’t want to talk about it, Sammy.” 

“I knew it,” said Sam. 

“What?” asked Bobby. 

“I was being helpful,” said Sam. “I took some of his stuff over to Cas’ because I knew he’d be too stubborn to do it himself.”

Bobby looked between the two of them. “Is that what your fight was about?”

“No,” answered Dean. “Kind of. I wasn’t mad about it. I’m glad you guys are bonding, but I wasn’t immediately thrilled and Cas took it the wrong way then I got pissed and it just went to Hell from there. I can’t tell you what the fight was about because I honestly don’t know.” 

Bobby sighed. “Ok. At least that’s a start. First things first,” he jabbed a finger at Sam, “don’t meddle with your brother’s relationship.”

“I’m being supportive,” said Sam. 

“I don’t care,” said Bobby. “Don’t do it.” 

“Cas _asked_ for my help.”

“With dinner,” said Dean.

“You’re a smart boy,” said Bobby, still eyeing Sam. “You know the difference between helping and meddling. This is a delicate kind of thing we’re dealing with.” 

“I’m not delicate,” snapped Dean.

“I didn’t say you were,” said Bobby.

Dean pushed away from the table and stood. 

“Oh Hell no,” said Bobby. “You can run from Cas, but you can’t run from us. Something’s got you in a twist and I want to know what it is.” 

“I’ll save it for therapy,” spat Dean. 

Bobby scrubbed a hand over his face. 

“Why are you being such a jerk?” asked Sam

“Why are you being such a bitch?” asked Dean. 

“Both of you sit down,” said Bobby. “Now.” He glared until they relented and took a seat at the table. “Sam, behave.” 

“But they love each other and Dean’s being dumb about it,” said Sam. 

“Well fuck you very much,” said Dean.

“Knock it off,” said Bobby. “You’re not mad at each other.” 

“He’s mad at me,” said Sam. 

“He’s not,” said Bobby. “He can huff and puff all he wants, but I got news for you, Dean’s never really mad at you. He’s mad at Cas. Their fight isn’t our business, but I want to make sure Cas didn’t cross a line. You can shut up or you can leave. Take your pick.” 

“I’ll shut up,” muttered Sam.

“I’m not mad at you,” grumbled Dean. 

Sam huffed, but true to his word, he didn’t say anything. 

“Dean,” said Bobby, “did Castiel hurt you?”

“No.”

“Do I need to kick his ass?” 

“No,” he answered.

“Did you feel unsafe at any point?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “It was just the stupid drawer. I swear.”

“Ok,” said Bobby, nodding slowly. “Second thing, then. You can’t fall off the radar. Check in with me or Sam—actually that goes for everybody at this table. Nobody goes off the radar. I check in with you two and you two check in with each other or me.” 

“I didn’t go off the radar,” said Dean. “I came home.”

“We didn’t know that until Sam checked your room. You don’t want to talk to Cas, fine. But don’t run away and not keep us in the loop. Family gets to stay one step ahead of everybody else.”

“Yeah, ok,” muttered Dean. 

Bobby turned to Sam. 

“Fine by me,” he said.

“Ok,” said Bobby, “problem sort of solved.”

“Can I go work on the car?” asked Dean. 

Bobby sighed. “Go ahead.”

Dean hurried away from the table and retreated to the garage. He managed to savor a half hour of solitude before Sam invaded. 

His brother leaned against the side of the car, arms folded and clearly pouting.

“Hand me that wrench,” said Dean. 

“He loves you,” said Sam. 

Dean huffed and grabbed the wrench himself. 

“And you love him,” said Sam. “And he wants you to move in with him. He said you’re not sure if that’s ‘right,’ whatever that fucking means.” 

Dean slammed the hood shut with more force than necessary. “Bobby told you not to meddle.” 

“Fuck that,” said Sam. “You’re my brother. I know you best and I know when you’re being dumb.” 

Dean bit his tongue. Sam was trying to help. He didn’t know everything, but he knew Dean.

“After all the shit you guys have been through, a _drawer_ crosses the line? Seriously?” 

“It’s not about that,” said Dean. 

“Then enlighten me, what’s it about?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you scared?”

Dean glared at him. “You’re on thin ice.” 

“I don’t care. You deserve to be happy. Cas makes you happy.” 

“For now,” said Dean.

“What’s that mean?” 

Dean shook his head. “Nothing.” 

“Dude, I’m trying to be—” 

“Supportive, I know. Thanks. I get it. But I don’t need it.” 

“You hurt his feelings.” 

Dean threw his hands in the air. “Are you two best friends now or something?” 

“I thought being his friend would make it easier for you. You know? Like, so you know I approve and stuff.”

“Well maybe he hurt my feelings,” snapped Dean.

“Did he?” asked Sam. “Because I’ll kill him. I’m bigger than he is.”

“No,” muttered Dean. “I hurt him.” Anna was the one who ripped the truth from Dean’s chest and presented it to Castiel. Sam didn’t need to know that. No one needed to know that. 

“So apologize.” 

“Dude, it’s not—I can’t—it’s not that easy.” 

“Yeah it is. Just say you’re sorry for being an ass. You have commitment issues, but you know Cas wasn’t trying to freak you out, he was just doing what I told him to.” 

Dean sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.” 

“Call him.” 

“Sammy.” 

“What? What are you waiting for?”

“I need some time.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry. You guys had a good thing and I fucked it up and I want to fix it.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Dean.

“Feels like my fault.”

“I swear it’s not.” 

“It was my idea to take your stuff over. He didn’t even know until I showed up with a bag. But that’s a thing people do isn’t it? Isn’t that normal couple stuff?”

“It’s not your fault,” said Dean again.

Sam ducked his head. “I’m sorry.” 

“Look,” began Dean, “I’m glad you like Cas. I know we’ve got a weird kind of ‘damsel in distress’ kind of story but we’re not a permanent thing. You don’t need to worry about supporting me or us or whatever. This is my first big gay thing, and I’m happy as Hell you don’t judge me, but don’t get invested. We’re not looking at forever.” 

“Oh,” said Sam. He looked down at his feet. 

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” said Dean. He wasn’t sure how much of what he said was true and how much was a bluff to distract Sam.

“That’s ok,” said Sam. “As long as you know what you’re doing.”

“I do,” said Dean. He decided it was half true. Whatever he had with Cas wasn’t going to last, especially not now that Cas knew what Dean really was. It was pointless to get invested, pointless to keep their things at each other’s homes. It would only make things messier in the end.

“Then I’m sorry for meddling.”

“Don’t worry about it. You didn’t know.”

“How do I treat him?” asked Sam. “Are we mad at him?”

“No,” answered Dean. “You can treat him like you always have. It’s just—he’s not a big deal, ok?” 

“Ok,” answered Sam. 

“Ok,” echoed Dean. 

Sam kicked at the dust on the floor. “I’ll let you get back to your car. Thanks for looping me in.”

“Thanks for giving a shit,” said Dean. 

Sam grinned. “Anytime, jerk,” he said. 

“Bitch,” muttered Dean. 

Sam returned to the house and Dean focused on his project, mind blissfully quiet. 

* * *

A week went by without contact. Dean found himself in Ellen’s office again. When she smiled and asked if he was all right, he cracked. Silent tears ran down his cheeks and he confessed. 

He told her about the fight, that he came back and heard Anna explaining to Cas what he would never have been able to see on his own. He told Ellen he was relieved because at least Cas knew the truth and Dean didn’t have to pretend anymore. Finally someone said the truth and exposed Dean for the fraud he was. 

Ellen listened quietly, through the tears and rambling confessions. When Dean was finished, she only had a few questions.

“You’ve never met Anna, right?” she asked. 

“Right,” answered Dean.

“She only knows about you through her brother Cas?” 

“Yeah.”

“Why do you believe this person, who is essentially a stranger, knows you better than anyone else? How does she know you better than your family? Or better than your boyfriend?”

“She’s not invested in me. I—” He licked his lips, trying to find the best way to explain. “I’ve never met her, so I haven’t been able to trick her, so what she says is honest.”

“Do you think you tricked your family into thinking some way about you that isn’t true?” 

“They think I’m better than I am.”

“Bobby and Sam, right?” she asked. “What about your father? What did he think?”

Dean scowled and sat back against his chair. Ellen didn’t know everything, but she knew enough. He’d babbled enough for her to know how John saw him.

“Do you think it’s possible,” asked Elle slowly, “that you are looking for a critical voice to replace the one you lost? To replace your father?”

“I don’t know,” muttered Dean. “I guess.” 

“Do you think you’re giving Anna’s words priority because it sounds like something your father would say?”

Dean closed his eyes. His throat was too tight to talk, so he just nodded his head. 

“Why do you think Anna would say those things about someone she doesn’t know and has never met?” asked Ellen.

Dean stared down at the floor. “Because she loves Cas,” he answered.

“So,” continued Elle, still treading lightly, “what do you her goal was when she was talking to her brother?” 

“I don’t know.”

“What would your goal be if you were talking to your brother about a fight he had with a significant other?”

“Make him feel better.”

“Could that be what Anna was doing?”

Dean looked up. Of course that’s what Anna was doing. She didn’t know Dean. She wasn’t psychic. She just knew Cas was hurt and Dean was the one who hurt him, therefore Dean was bad.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m so fucked up,” he muttered.

“It’s all right to be fucked up,” said Ellen. 

“I’ve got to talk to Cas. He probably thinks I hate him.” 

“That sounds like a good plan, if it’s what you want.”

“It is,” said Dean. “Fuck. I should talk to Anna, too. Cas has been so nice. He’s friends with my brother now; probably because he knows how much Sam means to me.”

“Do what makes you happy,” said Ellen. “And stop punishing yourself when you feel happy. You’ve been conditioned to think it’s wrong that you feel good.”

Dean snorted. “Dad would get suspicious if I was too happy. He always thought it meant I’d met some guy or something.”

Ellen made a note on her paper. 

“If I came home from work or from just hanging out, if he wasn’t one hundred percent sure where I’d been and I came home looking a little too happy, he’d beat the shit out of me until he got an answer he liked.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “He’d wait until Sam was asleep or gone or whatever, then just lay into me. He’d do it if he saw me crying too – thought it meant I was turning gay or something.

Ellen scribbled something else on her paper. She looked at Dean and something fiery and honest flickered across her face. “How old were you?” she asked. “How long did he treat you that way?”

“High school,” answered Dean. “I told you he saw me kiss that kid and got mad? He didn’t just get mad. He cracked two of my fucking ribs. He took me home and dragged me out into the back yard and beat the shit out of me. He got me a few times in the face, but he wised up a few swings in. Then he stuck to my back and my stomach. Sometimes he’d use his belt.

“Dean,” breathed Ellen, “I’m so sorry that happened.”

“He took me to the doctor that first time,” said Dean. “He’d always been pretty rough with me. He was a son of a bitch when he was drunk. But that time—I guess he wasn’t sure how bad he hurt me. I wouldn’t stand up without help. We went to the ER. Sammy was staying late at school. I think he was in a computer club or something. He didn’t know.” 

Dean licked his lips and took a breath. He’d relived that day so many times, but he’d never heard himself say it out loud. “We told the doctor I got into a fight at school. I had a busted lip and my eye was pretty swollen. Of course, we didn’t tell anybody what the doctor said or how bad it was. We told Sam I got hurt during gym. We didn’t see Bobby until my face was healed. I think Dad knew he’d ask too many questions.”

“I can’t imagine what that was like,” said Ellen. 

“It’s over now,” said Dean. He wiped his eyes and took a steady breath. “I don’t think I want to talk any more today.” 

“All right,” said Ellen. “Thank you for sharing that with me. Will I see you again next week?” 

“Probably,” answered Dean. 

Ellen made another note on her paper. She stood and hugged Dean, squeezing him a little tighter than last time. “I look forward to our next appointment,” she said.

She walked him back to the front desk with one hand on his back between his shoulder blades. She told the receptionist to schedule him for one week out.

Dean left and went back to his car feeling a little lighter. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Cas made him happy. Maybe that was all he needed to know. 


	27. Take two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Begin rambling*
> 
> You guys...my brother had a dream last night and he told me it was about a spider man. Not The Amazing Spider-Man or your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, this was more like Slender Man with eight eyes and apparently he lived in the attic of our old house. In the dream my brother and I went upstairs to investigate (because dreams suck like that) and spider man started creeping toward us.
> 
> *It's important to note that IRL I hate spiders and become an immobilized little baby when one is near. Because of this, my brother is the designated spider-killer. 
> 
> Back in dream-land, my brother took the lead because he knows I hate spiders and he asked the dream god "How do we kill this thing?" and the dream god was like "This is the Supernatural universe. You know how to kill it." 
> 
> Suddenly we had a buttload of guns and shit and we shot slender-spider-man and killed him. We won and the dream ended.
> 
> Back in the real world, my brother told me about the dream. I'm pretty sure it means somewhere a spider is watching us. Also, my brother dreamed in the SPN universe! Cool! 
> 
> *End of rambling*
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Dean stood on the porch, a clumsily wrapped package held in front of him as both an offering and a shield. He hit the doorbell with his elbow and waited.

Cas didn’t make him wait long. Footsteps approached the door, paused, then the knob turned and there he was. His eyes moved from Dean to the gift he was holding. He stepped back and let Dean enter the house. “Nice of you to show up,” he said.

“This is for you,” said Dean, offering the package.

Cas raised an eyebrow. 

“I know I’ve been radio silent for a week and I just now realized that was probably torturing you, so I figured you deserved something.” 

“I need to ask you something,” said Cas.

“I’ll answer honestly,” said Dean. 

“Do you want to be with me or are you just here because you think you owe me something?” 

“I want to be with you,” answered Dean. “This past week was fucking awful. I missed you. I thought about you so much I forgot how to change the oil on the goddamn Impala. I had to look it up. I went to therapy today and all I did was talk about you; granted that’s what I did last time, too. Point is I want you. I want to be with you and I want you to open this stupid present.” He held the gift out. 

Cas accepted it. “You talk about me in therapy?” he asked. 

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. It’s nothing bad,” he said quickly. “I just—I don’t know. I guess I like talking about you. You’re always on my mind so it’s hard not to talk about you.” 

“You’re always on my mind as well,” said Cas. He blinked quickly and looked down at the gift in his hands. 

He was crying. Dean made him cry. Cas wiped his eyes and began tearing the paper away. 

Dean had emptied a drawer from the dresser in his room. He’d made a quick adjustment to it and wrapped it. 

When Cas unwrapped it, he stared at it quietly.

“It’s got a secret compartment,” said Dean. He’d added a false bottom with a short leather strap to pull it out. He’d bought an eighth of weed and hidden it in the drawer. “If you pull this,” said Dean, “this panel pops up and you can hide your stuff.” He pointed to the baggie. “I thought I’d get you started.” 

Cas looked up, tears still in his eyes. “You bought weed?” 

“Yeah. One of the guys from Bobby’s shop is stoned pretty much 24/7,” explained Dean. “I got it from him.” 

Cas looked back down at the drawer. 

“It’s from the dresser in my room,” said Dean. “I—um—it’s yours. Not to keep here. I figured we could put stuff in it here and I’d take it back.” He licked his lips, mouth suddenly very dry. “I’m so sorry Cas. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that and I shouldn’t have kept you waiting.” 

Cas set his present on the table by the door and Dean suddenly found himself wrapped tightly in his arms. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean said again. 

“I forgive you,” said Cas. “And if you don’t want to have your things here—” 

“No, I do,” said Dean. “That’s why I got you a drawer. I want this. I want this so much. I want you. This is a real thing and I don’t want to fuck it up.” He deliberately left out eavesdropping on the conversation with Anna. It wasn’t her fault he ran and Cas didn’t need to know every tiny detail.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” said Cas. “Relationships are not my forte.” 

Dean threaded his fingers through Cas’ hair. “That goes double for me, but I’m willing to figure it out.”

Cas nuzzled closer. “For what it’s worth, I tried to return your things but Sam refused to take them back and I didn’t want to go to Bobby’s uninvited.”

“That fucking kid,” muttered Dean. “I guess he approves.” 

“Good,” said Cas. He tilted his head back and looked up. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” said Dean. He cupped his cheek and pressed tentative kiss to his lips. “Want to show me the stuff Sam stole?” 

“Yes,” answered Cas. “Want to help me pick out things to take back with you?” 

“Hell yeah,” answered Dean. 

* * *

Later that night Dean shot off a text letting Sam know he’d be staying with Cas. Sam responded with “Yeah, you are!” which Cas thought was hilarious. They went to bed shortly after packing items for Cas’ new drawer. 

Dean stretched against the sheets then rolled onto his side to pull Cas closer. They lay face to face in the dark sanctuary of the bedroom and Dean remembered the first time he finally felt safe.

“I’m really sorry,” said Dean. 

“Stop apologizing,” said Cas. “You came back. That’s all I care about.” 

He was warm and solid and real in Dean’s arms. Even in the darkness he was beautiful. “I want to give you more,” said Dean quietly. “You deserve more.” 

“Baby steps.” 

“I want to eventually—um,” Dean cleared his throat, “—to—you know. I want to _do_ more, too.” 

“Do more what? Dates? I assumed those would continue.”

“No, not just dates. The other stuff. S-s-sex stuff.” Dean stumbled over the last word and kicked himself for being such a teenager about it. 

“Oh,” said Cas. “That can wait, of course.” 

Dean tracked the glimmer of Castiel’s eyes in the darkness. He licked his lips and brushed a lock of hair from the other man’s forehead. He’d tried to contain his desire until it simmered down to something less overwhelming, but the longer he tried to control it, the hotter it burned. He _wanted_ Cas and the need to have him was terrifyingly close to the surface. 

“I want to try,” said Dean. A shiver ran through him the moment the words left his mouth. He licked his lips again. 

Cas took a shaky breath. “Um, when?” he stammered.

At least Dean wasn’t the only one consumed by nerves. They were pressed against each other, sharing heat through thin pajamas. The more Dean thought about their closeness, the more his stomach fluttered. 

Cas took Dean’s hand and brought it to his lips. He placed a gentle kiss against his fingers. “You’re trembling,” he said.

“Yeah,” breathed Dean.

“You must know I don’t expect anything,” said Cas. “If you never want to do more than this, I would still be very happy.” 

Heat trickled into Dean’s stomach and he burned. “I want more,” he said. “Is that ok with you?” 

Cas nodded. “But we should take it slow.” 

“Yeah,” agreed Dean, his eyes locked on Cas. “Slow is good.” He didn’t have to move far to make their lips meet. He pushed a little closer. Emboldened, he placed a hand on Cas’ hip and slowly slid his fingers beneath the other man’s t-shirt. 

Cas inhaled sharply and wrapped an arm around Dean’s waist. They were chest to chest writhing together in bed. Dean tried not to think and instead trust what he wanted. 

He kissed the edge of Cas’ lips then made his way down to his neck. He sucked at the soft skin and Cas gave a soft moan. Dean went with his instincts. He pushed Cas onto his back and straddled his hips. He let his hand slid all the way up Cas’ shirt, touching as much skin as he could. With his other hand he cradled Castiel’s cheek, holding him in place as he continued to tongue at his neck.

Cas moaned again. His hand found Dean’s thighs and he gripped him hard.

Still pushing the boundaries, Dean rocked his hips downward. Cas shivered beneath him. He did it again, thrusting with a little more force. The sensation was everything he needed. He pressed his forehead against Cas’ and breathed heavily as he lowered his body. Cas dug his fingers into Dean’s back and they slowly began rocking together.

Cas brushed the hair from Dean’s face. “Are you all right?” 

“Yeah,” breathed Dean. He kissed him and thrust down again.

Cas craned his neck and trailed a line of kisses down Dean’s neck. Cas held him close as they pumped their hips against one another. The angle wasn’t quite right and their clothes didn’t provide the same kind of friction as skin to skin contact, but when Dean felt Cas’ erection rub against his own his breath hitched and heat pooled low in his stomach.

He buried his face into the crook of Castiel’s neck, biting back the moan desperately trying to escape him.

Cas kissed his cheek and breathed against his ear. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. “You’re safe.” 

Dean took a sharp breath and thrust against him harder. Cas held him tighter to his chest. Dean’s hips stuttered as he came. Cas arched off of the bed and gasped as his orgasm followed. 

Dean kept his face pressed into his partner, panting, delirious. They dry-humped like virgins. It was sweaty, messy and undignified, but it was what he wanted. Desire chased away his perpetual thoughts of shame, but as the pleasure faded, the thoughts crept back.

Cas didn’t push him away. He turned his face to nuzzle against Dean’s neck and began stroking his back. “That was,” panted Cas, “my god, that was hot.”

Dean snapped out of his dismal spiral and laughed. “I can’t believe we dry-humped,” he said, mumbling into Cas’ skin. He raised his head. “For the record, I can do better. Next time will be better.” 

Cas took Dean’s face into his hands and looked up at him, suddenly very serious. “That was the best—I don’t know—” He huffed, and scowled. “I enjoyed that very much. It was a big step for you – for us – and it was good. Accept the fact that it was good.”

Dean bit his lip. “Ok,” he muttered. “I guess it was pretty good.”

Cas kissed him again. “Let’s get cleaned up,” he said. “Then we can come back here and never leave this bed ever again.”

They took turns in the bathroom. Dean was tempted to suggest they strip down and rinse off together, but the proposal was anchored somewhere in his gut and he couldn’t make himself say the words. The thought of _more, more, more_ pounded in his head, keeping rhythm with his heart. 

When he got back into bed, Cas quickly curled up behind him and pressed his lips to the back of Dean’s neck. He wrapped Dean in his arms and made a content little sigh. 

“This might be the best I’ve ever felt,” said Cas.

Dean laughed. “Then you’re pretty easy to please.”

Cas squeezed him against his chest. “Maybe you’re just exceptionally pleasing.”

Dean huffed. 

“Why are you so tense?” asked Cas. 

“I’m not,” answered Dean. He tried to relax and realized Cas was right, he was tense.

“You’re relaxed now, but you were tense a moment ago.” 

“Sorry. Knee-jerk reaction.” 

“To?” 

Dean thought for a moment. It was most likely because he wasn’t in the dominant position. Cas had hold of him and Dean couldn’t see him. However, despite his instinct, it felt nice to be held, to surrender and know the other person wasn’t going to inflict damage. 

“Are you all right?” asked Cas.

Dean felt him pull away. He looked over his shoulder and saw Cas propped up on his elbow waiting for an answer. “I’m not used to, um, cuddling like this I guess.” 

“I can move,” offered Cas.

“No,” said Dean. “I like it.” He chewed his lip. “Do you like it?” 

Cas nodded. “Very much,” he said. “I like knowing you’re safe.”

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. “I keep forgetting you’re my white knight.” 

Cas settled back down and nuzzled against him. “I just want to make sure you’re protected—and I like having someone to hold on to.” 

Dean rolled over in Cas’ arms. “You need to be protected, too,” he said. “I’ll watch your back and you can watch mine.” 

“One might say we’re a little paranoid,” said Cas. 

“One can kiss my ass,” said Dean. He kissed Cas for the millionth time that night. 

They fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.


	28. Goodbye Party

Sam was leaving soon and Dean was trying to figure out how to prepare to say goodbye. Bobby swore up and down nothing would change, but that couldn’t be true. Sam was leaving. He was going to live hours away, a plane ticket away. 

Sam promised he’d call and he showed Dean how to video chat on his phone, but it wasn’t the same. Everything was going to change. He wouldn’t see Sam again until Thanksgiving. Months. It would be months until they saw each other again.

Dean sat on the floor in the living room waiting for Bobby to return. They were throwing a surprise party for Sam and Dean accidentally volunteered to take over planning and decorating. Bobby was in charge of distracting Sam for the afternoon. Guests would arrive in a few hours. 

Dean blew up another balloon and sent it wafting into the pile with the others. 

“Is this even?” asked Cas. He was standing on a chair trying to hang up a “congratulations Sam” sign. 

“Looks good,” answered Dean. 

Cas hopped off the chair and sat beside him. He leaned in and planted a loud kiss to Dean’s neck. Dean shoved him away.

Cas leaned in again slowly. He aimed for Dean’s ear this time. He was close enough that Dean could feel this breath against his skin. “You have,” whispered Cas, “entirely too many balloons.” 

Dean pursed his lips to keep from grinning. Cas was getting bolder with intimacy, more confident in testing Dean’s boundaries. Dean was surprised to find that so far, he didn’t have any boundaries. 

Cas inched closer so they were sitting hip to hip. His breath was soft against Dean’s neck. 

“Make yourself useful,” said Dean, “Start hanging these.” He blew up another balloon. “Put them over the door or something.”

Cas’ lips pressed just below Dean’s jaw and he licked at the skin. “Can you be more specific?” he asked. 

“You are useless,” muttered Dean. 

Cas hummed and began sucking gently at Dean’s collarbone. They never got further than eager makeout sessions. Cas kept a seemingly calculated amount of space between them and Dean wasn’t sure how to get them back to awkward grinding and groping. 

He suspected Cas was being overly respectful. Then again maybe Cas didn’t want more. Dean didn’t know how to broach the subject. Thinking about it made it difficult to enjoy what they were doing and he couldn’t figure out how to talk about it without killing the mood. 

He wrapped his hand around Cas’ waist. After a moment of internal debate, he slipped his hand carefully beneath the hem of Cas’ shirt. A chill ran through him as his fingers made contact with bare skin. They had plenty of time before anyone arrived. 

“Hey,” muttered Dean. He jerked his head back toward his bedroom. 

Cas blinked at him. 

“You want to—um,” he gulped down the rest of his words. He clenched his jaw and stood, pulling Cas up with him. Neither of them said a word as Dean led them back to the bedroom.

Dean shut the door, then pushed Cas onto the bed. He licked his lips and sat straddling his lap. Cas was transfixed, taking in his every move and Dean got a little brave. He pulled his shirt over his head. Cas swallowed hard and looked back and forth between Dean’s chest and his eyes. 

Dean wasn’t sure if the expression he was seeing was one of lust or terror. Cas finally seemed to snap back to himself and he whipped his shirt over his head. 

“What are we doing?” asked Cas. His eyes were still scanning Dean’s body. He cautiously moved his arms to encircle Dean’s waist.

Dean leaned forward and licked at Cas’ lips then kissed him slowly. Cas was already hard and his fingers twitched against Dean’s back. 

“I want to try something new,” whispered Dean. He eased Cas down onto the mattress and moved his hips in a slow circle. 

“You don’t,” began Cas. He licked his lips and tried again. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Dean nipped at his neck. He placed a hand on Cas’ chest and thumbed over his nipple. 

Cas’ eyes fluttered. He ran his fingertips gently over Dean’s back. 

Dean kissed his way down Castiel’s neck to his collarbone to his chest, pausing to tease the neglected nipple with his tongue. Cas’ hips bucked slightly so Dean let his teeth graze over the sensitive skin. 

Cas let out a quiet moan. 

Dean turned his attention to the other side of his chest, nipping and sucking as he went. He moved his hand carefully down Cas’ body and paused between their thighs. Cas bucked again and Dean decided that was a signal. He palmed Cas’ erection, rubbing it slowly through his jeans. 

“Dean,” breathed Cas.

He looked up, but Cas didn’t appear to be talking to him. His head was thrown back as he arched against the mattress. 

Dean grinned. At least teasing and foreplay was more or less the same between genders. He’d always been good at this part; it was the next part that scared him. He tried to go by what he enjoyed and what women had done to him in the past. 

He breathed against Cas’ skin as he kissed down his chest to the top of his jeans. He slid from the bed and knelt between Cas’ legs. Dean nibbled again at his hips and began undoing the top button. 

Cas shot up, mouth hanging open.

Dean looked up at him through his lashes and grinned again as he pulled the zipper down. He pressed his mouth to Cas’ boxers and tongued at his cock. He undid his own jeans and let them slide down his thighs. He pulled his shorts down and began stroking himself. He didn’t expect the sensation to be quite so intense. He closed his eyes and brought his free hand up to Cas’ pelvis. 

He caressed Cas through his boxers and mouthed at his testicles, groaning slightly when his own euphoria grew in intensity. He finally took pity on Cas and tugged his shorts down. Cas propped himself up on his elbows as Dean freed him. His cock was practically throbbing and the sight sent a shiver through Dean’s body.

He licked at the tip, tasting salt and sweat. Cas gasped and Dean felt the muscles in his stomach clench. He bobbed his head slowly, trying to gauge how far he could go. 

Something hit the mattress with a thud. Dean looked up and saw Cas was flat on his back with an almost white-knuckle grip on the sheets. His skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat and when Dean licked the underside of his cock, Cas arched against the bed. 

Dean gripped himself a little tighter and made his strokes a little faster. He timed his mouth and his hand so he and Cas were sharing the same rhythm.

“Dean,” whimpered Cas. “I’m close.” 

With his free hand he dug his nails into Cas’ thigh and sucked harder. Cas came in his mouth with a muffled cry and Dean followed right behind him. 

“Oh my God,” panted Cas. 

Dean kissed his hips and the light red marks he left in Cas’ thigh.

Cas propped himself up again. “I want,” he said between breaths, “to blow you.” 

Dean laughed. 

“I’m serious,” said Cas. “It’s all I can think about right now.” 

“Sorry,” said Dean, still snickering, “I’ve got to recharge.” He stood up and Cas held out a hand. When Dean took it, Cas tugged him onto the bed.

“You are amazing,” said Cas. He leaned in for a kiss but Dean pulled away.

“I should brush my teeth,” he said. 

“Would it be slutty of me to say I don’t care?” 

Dean laughed again and rolled onto his back. Cas took the opportunity to kiss him and curl against his chest. 

“Was that—that was because you wanted to, right?” asked Cas. 

“Yeah,” answered Dean. “I’ve been wanting to for a while.”

“Teach me how to do it. I want to do that to you.” 

Dean just laughed harder. 

“I have no idea why you find that so amusing.” 

“I don’t know,” said Dean. “You’re so blunt about it.”

“I prefer to be direct.”

“Yeah, I picked up on that.”

Cas hummed against his skin. “That was incredible. I’ve never felt anything like that before.” 

“How is that possible?” asked Dean. “What about porn? Didn’t you get off?”

“Yes, but not like that.” Cas sighed. “I was exceptionally terrible at that job. I didn’t get along with my troglodyte co-workers and, according to Crowley, I asked too many questions. Apparently ‘do we have a business license?’ was an inappropriate inquiry.”

Dean snorted. “I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that you worked with those people.” 

“I was stupid. I thought it was easy money. I didn’t account for moral quandaries or obsessive STD testing.”

Dean blushed. STDs didn’t even occur to him. He was clean, but he didn’t think to ask Cas. He’d just assumed.

“I’m disease-free, by the way,” said Cas.

Dean felt a knot in his throat as more questions bubbled up within him. What did Cas do while he worked with Crowley? Did he sleep with Alastair or Naomi? Why was he a dom? Did he tie people up? Was Dean the first person he’d saved? Why hadn’t they talked about this before? 

“Hey,” said Cas. He propped himself up and hovered over Dean. “Where’d you go?”

“Um, what?” asked Dean. 

“You disengaged. What happened?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Yes you do,” said Cas. “Talk to me. What happened? Did I say something?”

“No,” answered Dean. “I guess I spaced out for a second.”

Cas sighed again and his head dropped to Dean’s shoulder.

Dean clenched his jaw. They’d had a good day. He didn’t want to ruin it. “I guess I was thinking about how we—I don’t talk about sex that much. I was thinking maybe we should talk about it more.” 

“I agree,” said Cas, lifting his head. He looked down at Dean clearly waiting for more. 

“I’m clean, too,” said Dean. “STD-wise I mean.”

“I assumed you were,” said Cas. “Thank you for telling me.” 

Dean chewed on his lip. “Cas, I want to talk about this, I swear I do, but I’ve got to take it slow.”

Cas lowered himself back onto Dean’s chest. He threaded his fingers in Dean’s hair and kissed his neck. “I understand,” he said.

“You deserve to know what I’m thinking, though,” said Dean. “And I’m not thinking anything bad, I swear. It’s hard to put into words.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Fuck me,” he muttered. 

“Take your time,” said Cas. “I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready. It doesn’t have to be today.” 

I didn’t have to happen right then, but Dean wanted it to happen. He needed to nut the fuck up and talk. His face felt like it was on fire. “I want to talk about porn,” he said quickly. 

Cas sat up again, eyebrows creased together. 

“You and porn,” said Dean. “Like, what happened? What did you do? Did anybody else get hurt and stuff? Did you get hurt? Did you fuck anybody? Did they fuck you? How did you get into dom/sub stuff? Was I the first one? Did you save other people? I’ve got to know. Maybe it’s not really important. I didn’t know I wanted to know, but I guess I do. Surprise.” He stopped rambling and caught his breath.

“I’m sorry,” said Cas. “I should have addressed this much earlier.” He kissed Dean’s forehead. “Crowley wanted someone with experience in dominating others. I lied and said I could do it. I was on the receiving end of oral sex on two occasions and I gave one man a hand job. I started a scene with a woman and another with a man, but Crowley didn’t like what I was doing.” 

Cas brushed his thumb over Dean’s cheek. “I didn’t engage with Alastair, Naomi or Crowley. No one hurt me and I didn’t see them assault anyone else. That doesn’t it didn’t happen. I doubt you were the first. All the more reason to lock them away.” 

Dean searched Cas’ eyes. “That’s it?” he asked. 

“That’s it.” 

Dean reminded himself to breathe. 

Cas frowned and suddenly looked worried. “Does that information change anything?”

“No,” answered Dean quickly. He didn’t know what to do with the answers, but he knew felt better. “Thank you, I—Fuck. I don’t know what I’m doing.” He closed his eyes. He was going to cry if he let himself go any farther. He struggled to regain control. He knew better. He knew not to let himself disconnect. He wasn’t all right and this was only the tip of the iceberg of his current problems. If he kept going, the whole damn thing would come to the surface and rip him apart.

He couldn’t think about sex because it made him think about porn, which made him think about Alastair, then John, then losing Sam; and he was going to lose Sam again, but this time Sam wanted to go. Dean clenched his jaw again. 

“Breathe with me,” murmured Cas. He gently pulled Dean into a sitting position. Instead of sitting across from him as he usually did, Cas crawled behind him and sat with his chest pressed to Dean’s back. He placed one hand over Dean’s heart and his other hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean automatically started counting. He felt Cas smile against his shoulder, felt his body relax and the panic subside.

“You’re safe,” whispered Cas. “We’re throwing a party today and it’s going to be so much fun."

A party to celebrate the fact that Sam was leaving. Dean pushed the thought away and exhaled. “Fun,” he echoed.

Cas kissed his neck. “We’re going to stay up too late, maybe drink too much, then fall asleep beside each other.”

“I can get behind that plan,” said Dean.

“We’re going to wake up together and hope Bobby has enough coffee to cure our hangovers.”

Dean grinned. “He does.”

Cas kissed him again.

Dean gave himself another minute to come back to normal “We should finish decorating,” he said.

“I’ll try not to distract you,” said Cas.

“I don’t think you can help yourself,” said Dean.

They put their clothes back on and cleaned up before returning to the living room. Cas was only marginally less distracting. Dean was grateful. It kept his mind from thinking about saying goodbye.

* * *

Rufus brought enough pizza to feed an army. Dean pulled the cake from the fridge and set it in the middle of the table. Balloons were everywhere. He’d over-estimated and they ended up leaving a pile of inflated balloons on the floor to kick around.

Dean did a quick head count to make sure everyone was present. Friends and co-workers parked around the back of the house so Sam would be surprised. He tried not to think about the fact that most of the people there were also at John’s memorial. He tried not to compare saying goodbye to his brother to saying goodbye to his father. 

When he heard Bobby’s truck pull into the yard, he signaled for everyone to hide. They crowded into the hall to wait. Cas took his hand. Dean couldn’t remember if they held hands in front of everyone at John’s service. He couldn’t remember if everyone knew. 

Cas squeezed his hand and Dean squeezed back. 

Bobby was the first one through the door. As soon as Sam was inside, Dean flipped the lights on and leapt out.

About 20 people yelled “Surprise!” at once and Sam jumped back. It took him a minute to figure out what was happening. 

Dean clapped his brother on the back and congratulated him, then let friends move in to talk to Sam.

As the evening went on, Dean found excuses to keep himself busy. He picked up trash, set out more drinks, checked on Sam; by the end of the night, he’d run out of tasks. He snuck out of the house and told himself he wasn’t hiding. Sam was the only person in the world with the power to trigger every emotion Dean tried to bury. The outburst with Cas wasn’t coincidence; it was just the first thing to surface. 

He’d just begun to sulk when Sam found him. 

“You know,” said Sam, “at first I thought you were actually busy, but now I kind of think you’re avoiding me on purpose.” 

“I’m not avoiding you,” said Dean. 

Sam leaned against the railing across from him. “It’s insulting when you think you can lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” said Dean. 

Sam huffed. “Can we skip the part where you’re in denial? I want to get straight to the point.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Go for it,” he said.

“Don’t be a jerk,” said Sam. “I got you a present, but I need to say something first.”

“What’d you get me?”

“I need to say something first,” repeated Sam. “Can you listen?” 

“Fine,” said Dean, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

“I’m going to Stanford,” he said slowly. “I’m going to be all the way across the country. We’ve never been that far apart for that long and it’s going to suck.”

Dean stared at the ground. He wasn’t ready for this. Sam was pulling everything up at once, everything he’d worked so hard to bury.

“This year has sucked hard. I think this has been our shittiest year since Mom died. I don’t remember her dying so this my shittiest year ever.” 

“It’s been my shittiest year, too,” said Dean quietly.

“I talked to Bobby about it and he agrees,” continued Sam. “I can’t deal with more shit right now, so I made a decision. And before you ask, yes, I’m sure. I’ve talked to Bobby and my advisor and my new advisor and I’m absolutely sure I want to do this.” 

Dean looked up.

“I’ve been accepted to the university here,” said Sam. “I can get my undergrad degree, then go to Stanford Law after I graduate. I’m going to take online courses from Stanford just to make sure I stay on their radar, but I’m going to school here. I’m staying with Bobby. Campus is about twenty minutes away."

Dean couldn’t find the words. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.

“That’s your present,” he said. “Me. Surprise, I guess. I hope you like it.”

“Sammy,” said Dean slowly, “you can’t do that. What about your future? You can’t do that just because of me.”

“I’m not,” said Sam quickly. “I don’t want to leave. I already thought I’d lost you once this year. Then Dad died. I still don’t know how to feel about that and I know you probably don’t either. I can’t—I’m not ready. I can’t leave.”

Sam’s voice cracked. “I know this wasn’t the plan. I don’t want you to think I’m slacking off or that I don’t care about school. I do care; I just know that if I leave now, I won’t be able to think about anything other than getting back home. I won’t be able to do my best and I want to do my best. I hope you’re not disappointed.”

Dean stood and pulled his little brother into a hug. “You’ve never disappointed me,” he said. “I just want to make sure you’re doing what makes you happy.” 

“I want to stay home,” said Sam. “Home makes me happy.”

“The fuck Stanford,” said Dean. “Stay the hell home.” He stepped back and realized he was crying. It didn’t matter though, Sam was crying too.

“I was going to tell you earlier,” said Sam, “but Bobby said I should surprise you.”

“Best fucking surprise ever,” said Dean. “Do your friends know?”

Sam shook his head. “I’m going to tell them tonight, but I wanted you to know first. You can go ahead and tell Cas, though.” 

Dean ran a hand over his face. It still hurt because Sam was still going to leave one day, but Dean wasn’t alone anymore. Sam hurt, too. They were together in everything, even pain. 

“On a scale from one to someone totaled the Impala, how mad are you that I didn’t tell you sooner?” asked Sam.

“I am way too fucking relieved to be mad,” said Dean. “But holy shit, next time don’t keep me in suspense.”

“So,” said Sam, “to clarify, next time I know something big I should tell you ASAP.”

“Yes,” said Dean.

“Even if Bobby says we should surprise you?” 

“Yeah. Screw surprises. I’ll be surprised anyway. Just tell me.” 

Sam grinned. “Good, then Bobby owes me twenty bucks." 

“Did you assholes bet on how pissed I’d be?” 

“Yeah,” answered Sam. “Technically we tied. Bobby bet you’d like the surprise and you wouldn’t be mad. I bet you wouldn’t like being left out of the loop and you’d be furious.”

“We’ll tell him I threw a fit and you talked me down. If keeping me in the dark was his dumbass idea then he deserves to lose twenty bucks.” 

“I agree,” said Sam. He nodded to the front door. “You ready to actually join the party? Your boyfriend’s been worried about you all night.”

“He’s always worried about me,” said Dean.

“We’re all kind of worried about you,” said Sam. “Like I said, it’s been a shitty year and you got the worst of it. I vote we go in and talk Bobby into letting me have another beer.”

“Lush,” muttered Dean.

“Jerk.” 

“Bitch.” 

They laughed and returned to the party together.


	29. Treading Water

Sam and Dean learned to swim, fish, and paddle a boat in a lake about an hour north of town. It was quiet, comfortable, clean and the perfect place to spend the day. 

Dean took his shirt off and was rewarded with a dazed look from Cas. They had a blanket spread out near the shore and Dean packed lunch and drinks. The lake was quiet during this part of the day and they had the beach to themselves. Dean left his shoes by the blanket and headed for the water. 

“Come on,” he called over his shoulder. He was knee-deep in the lake and he turned to see Cas still had his shirt on and had only made it to the edge of the water. “You can’t swim in the dirt,” said Dean.

“Is it cold?” asked Cas.

“A little, but that’s kind of the point, isn’t it?” Dean waded back to the shore and held his hand out. “Come on. I’ll be gentle.” 

“I am a truly terrible swimmer,” said Cas. “And I probably should have mentioned I have a slight tendency to panic when I’m in deep water.”

“We’re not going into deep water,” said Dean. He tugged on Cas’ shirt.

Cas rolled his eyes, but allowed Dean to pull the t-shirt over his head and toss it back to the blanket. 

“Much better,” said Dean. He took the other man’s hand and guided him into the lake. He stopped when the water was up to their waists. 

“It’s deep.” 

“It’s not deep, we’re half-way out of the water.” 

“It’s cold.” 

Dean sighed. He stepped back then submerged himself. He swam under water and came up behind Cas. He made a bigger splash than was necessary and wrapped his arms around Cas.

Cas shivered. “You are a monster,” he said. 

Dean planted a kiss behind his ear. “Get in the damn water. We’ll splash around a little bit. I’ll at least teach you how to tread water so you don’t drown. Then we’ll go back to your place and get nice and warm.”

“How warm?”

“Super warm,” said Dean, kissing him again. “You’ll be all hot and bothered by the time I’m done with you.” He grazed his teeth over Cas’ neck. Dean took his arm and circled back to stand in front of him.

Cas’ face was bright red. “It’s very difficult to argue with you,” he said. 

Dean tugged on his hand and crouched so that most of his body was submerged. After another gentle tug, Cas surrendered and sank into the water. 

“Look at that,” said Dean, “you’re halfway there.” 

“That seems like an overstatement,” said Cas. 

“You’re pretty cute when you’re grumpy,” said Dean.

Cas blushed again and rolled his eyes. 

“We’ll work on your top half first,” said Dean. “Cup your hands and move your arms like this.” He made a sort of sweeping gesture with his arm in the water. 

Cas mimicked him. “Like this?” 

“Yeah, but with a little less splashing. The goal is to keep yourself upright.” He watched as Cas altered his movements. “That’s better,” he said. “You feel the resistance? Feel how you’re kind of pushing the water?”

“Kind of,” answered Cas. 

“Let’s go out a little deeper. You’ll feel more of a difference if we’re standing.” 

“Yes,” muttered Cas, “let’s go out deeper where it’s more likely I’ll die flailing around.” 

“You won’t die,” said Dean, standing. He pulled Cas into his arms and swept him off of his feet and out of the water. “If you start flailing I’ll carry you back to shore.” 

Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck. “Are you sure you didn’t bring me out here just to show off?”

“Not _just_ to show off,” said Dean. “I also wanted an excuse to get you out of your clothes.” He waded out a little deeper with Cas still in his arms.

Cas cleared his throat. “I should probably tell you that this is fulfilling many lifeguard fantasies I had when I was younger.” 

“Lifeguards,” echoed Dean. “That’s good to know.” Dean couldn’t remember many of his own fantasies. There was a period of time when he was afraid John would know what he was thinking and be punished for it. Still, even if there weren’t any fantasies to fulfill, Castiel soothed an ache that had plagued him for as long as he could remember. Being around him just made sense. Cas settled into his life so smoothly it was difficult to imagine the rest of his life without him. 

“This is far enough,” said Cas. “If we go any further I’ll probably panic and that would be terribly undignified.” 

Dean lowered him back into the lake. The water was just up to his shoulder. “You feel all right here? You can touch the bottom and everything?” 

Cas splashed him. “I’m not that much shorter than you.” 

Dean glanced back at the shore to make sure they were still alone. “Ok,” he said. “Come here.” He spun Cas around and pressed against his back. He took Cas’ hands in his again and slowly moved their arms through the water. “You feel that?” he asked. “Feel how you’re pushing against the water?” 

“Yes,” answered Cas quietly. “I think so.”

Dean pressed a kiss to his shoulder and grinned. He was allowed to have fantasies now. He could imagine anything he wanted and better still, all of his fantasies would probably be about Cas. 

“At some point I’m supposed to move my legs, too, right?” asked Cas. 

Dean sighed against his neck. “Yeah.” 

Cas hummed and laced their fingers together, arms still moving slowly through the water. 

“I am one lucky son of a bitch,” said Dean. He nuzzled into the other man’s hair, lips pressed against his ear. “You’re beautiful, Cas.” Dean felt him tense and squeeze Dean’s fingers. Dean wasn’t sure what to make of that, but he didn’t like the idea of Cas flinching at a compliment. “You’re the kindest, smartest, strongest most hard-headed person I’ve ever met.”

That earned him a small snicker from the man slowly curling in on himself in Dean’s arms.

“You fought for me,” said Dean, “and I’ll fight for you for the rest of my life.” 

Cas released Dean’s hands. “You don’t owe me that,” he said. 

Dean circled to stand in front of him. He chewed on his lower lip, bit down a little too hard and let himself feel the pain. He felt the sand under his feet, the water touching his skin, the sun beating down on his neck and shoulders. He felt Cas, shrinking in his arms; made sure to notice the way his tanned skin felt beneath his fingers. 

He breathed deeply and grounded himself in the moment. He wanted to remember this.

“Cas,” he said, voice shaking. “I love you. I am stupidly in love with you.” 

Cas looked at him, wide-eyed with his lips slightly parted and staring like he’d never seen another human before. 

For a split second Dean felt panic creeping through him, but he quickly dismissed it. He didn’t care if Cas didn’t answer. He needed to say it and Cas needed to hear it. He curled his toes against the rough, sandy floor of the lake. No regrets. 

Cas suddenly seemed to remember how to move again. He cupped Dean’s face in his hands and kissed him fiercely. Dean lost himself the sensations; Cas’ tongue licking against his lips then exploring his mouth, Cas’ hands moving to tangle in his hair, his teeth scraping against Dean’s lower lip, their bare chests pressed together, the way Cas smelled like sex and home and freedom. Dean breathed it in and surrendered. 

Falling wasn’t something to fear; it was exhilarating. Landing didn’t hurt; it strengthened him. He tightened his hold around Cas’ body, suddenly hungry for a way to be closer. 

They broke apart just enough to catch their breath. 

“I love you, too,” whispered Cas. “I’m sorry. I should have led with that.”

Dean laughed. “Don’t worry. I got the message.” 

Cas kissed him again.

They spent the next hour splashing and stealing touches and kisses. It was a miserable excuse for a swim lesson. Dean called it a day after Cas “accidentally” groped his thigh for the fifth time. They packed the car and made it back to Cas’ house in record time.

They made it as far as the living room before Dean pinned Cas against the wall and began rolling his hips against him. 

Cas panted against his skin. The journey to the bedroom was urgent and clumsy and Cas kept making noises that short-circuited Dean’s brain. 

Moments later their swim trunks were on the floor and the two men were tangled together in bed. Dean didn’t have a plan and he wasn’t letting himself think ahead. He made sure to feel everything, every inch of skin pressing and grinding against his body. He was on his back with Cas writhing on top of him.

“I love you,” panted Cas.

“I love you, too,” breathed Dean. 

Suddenly Cas pulled away from him and just as suddenly something warm and wet wrapped around his aching erection. Dean looked down just long enough to watch Cas swallow his cock. He fell back against the bed, unable to stop the moan that escaped him. 

Cas made an obscene noise and dug his blunt nails into his thighs. Dean wanted to watch, to take in and appreciate everything that was happening, but his muscles weren’t responding to his mind, he was completely at the mercy of Cas and his tongue. 

Cas’ hands moved to grip underneath his thighs and Dean, much to his own surprise, responded by spreading his legs apart. His mind was slow to catch up with his libido and his thoughts trickled in slowly, one at a time. He wanted Cas to fuck him. He wanted, needed to feel Cas inside him; needed to hear Cas gasp and feel their bodies twist and curve together.

Dean dug his teeth into his bottom lip as Cas focused his attention on the head of his cock. He was sucking and licking and pumping his hand along Dean’s shaft at a pace that was both overwhelming and not nearly fast enough. Cas swirled his tongue and slowed to an agonizing speed.

Dean spread his legs wider, planting both feet on the bed. Cas swallowed his cock and ran his hands over Dean’s skin. It was warm and lazy and every now and then Cas would hollow his cheeks and suck just a little too hard in a way that made Dean’s toes curl.

Cas pulled his mouth away slowly and swirled his tongue around, lapping up sweat and precome. Dean shivered and grabbed him by the arm, yanking him up so they were face to face. 

Cas didn’t miss a beat. He latched on to Dean’s neck. He had one hand tangled in his hair and the other gripping Dean’s cock. 

Dean whimpered and gasped again. He fumbled around searching, trying to return the pleasure but his arm was suddenly entirely too heavy. He closed his eyes. He wanted this. God help him, he wanted everything that was happening to him right now. He loved feeling Cas’ weight pinning him to the bed. He loved the way Cas’ long, slender fingers stroked his erection and tugged at his hair. He loved Cas’ tongue and loved tasting himself in Cas’ mouth. He loved that Cas was dragging this out.

 _He’s creating a memory._  

The realization hit Dean slowly. Cas was savoring the moment; making it last. He was carving out a memory in their collective history and making sure this day would live with them forever.

Dean grabbed Castiel’s face and kissed him hard and rough. He flipped them over and pinned both of Cas’ arms over his head. Mouths still sealed, Dean lowered his hips and began to thrust, deliberately taking his time. Their members slid against one another and Cas moaned into his mouth. 

Dean needed this memory and he needed to be an active part of it. He needed to remember control as much as he needed relish pleasure. He closed his eyes, working up the courage to vocalize what he was actually craving. 

He needed to feel Cas inside of him, needed to erase the last memory he had of someone thrusting in and out of him. He couldn’t let Alistair hold him hostage forever, couldn’t continue to ignore the fear he felt whenever he lay facedown on a bed, couldn’t keep hiding from the shame of letting it happen. 

“Dean,” panted Cas. “Open your eyes.”

He didn’t realize he’d closed them. 

“Look at me.”

He stared down at Cas. He’d stopped rocking his hips and they were both very still. Cas carefully slipped his wrists from Dean’s grasp and began running his fingers up and down his back. 

“Sorry,” said Dean. 

“Are you sure you want—”

“Yes,” growled Dean, thrusting his hips again to underline his enthusiasm.

“Then I need you to stay with me,” said Cas. “Keep your eyes on me. Stop thinking and just let your body feel. Most importantly, you need to talk to me and tell me what you want.” 

“I want you,” said Dean. “What do you want?” 

“I want you, too,” answered Cas. 

Dean kissed him again. “I want you to fuck me,” he said.


	30. Fuck Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Instead of thinking about Nazis, nuclear war threats, and forest fires tearing through the USA, I wrote gay porn. Turns out gay porn is kinda my security blanket. 
> 
> Stay safe everyone. Sending out love...

Cas was lying on top of him with one hand cupping his cheek. He pressed his lips to every bit of skin within reach. Dean was doing his best to clear his mind and keep his eyes on the man trying to help him relax. His feet were flat on the bed and his knees were bent. It wasn’t the most practical position, but it made both of them more comfortable. It was easier to see each other this way.

Cas’ free hand was slick with lube. He teased Dean’s entrance with the pad of his index finger. It took everything Dean had to keep his breathing slow and steady and when he felt himself tensing, he’d take a second to remember this was his idea and something he desperately wanted. 

The pressure against his hole increased and he clung to Cas a little tighter. 

“Are you all right?”                                                                                                               

“Yeah,” answered Dean. “Keep going.” 

Cas kissed him and slowly inserted his finger. He pressed deeper until Dean was almost positive the entire finger was inside of him. 

“Tell me if something doesn’t feel right,” said Cas. “My knowledge is more theoretical than practical.” 

Dean nodded, distracting himself with the way Cas’ lips were still kiss-swollen and pink.

Cas dipped his head and tongued Dean’s nipple. At the same time, he began gently pumping his finger in and out. 

It burned a little at first and Dean felt himself adjusting and stretching to accommodate the intrusion, but it was nothing like what he felt before. Cas wasn’t going to ram another finger inside of him before he was ready. He wasn’t going to force Dean to get hard then tease and beat him. 

“Still all right?” asked Cas. 

Dean realized his eyes were closed. “Yeah,” he croaked.

Cas tilted Dean’s head down so their faces were closer together. “Would it help to talk through it?” murmured Cas. 

“No,” answered Dean. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.” He felt Cas’ finger shift and bend slightly, then it pressed against a bundle of nerves and Dean gasped. 

“Good or bad?” asked Cas.

“G-good,” stammered Dean. “Do it again.”

Cas obliged.

Dean could feel eyes on him as he bit his lip and dug his nails into the other man’s skin. Cas moved his finger in and out, hitting Dean’s prostate on every other thrust. He wasn’t sure when one finger became two, and then three, but it didn’t take long for him to start begging. 

“I’m ready,” he panted. “Please.” 

Cas kissed his way up Dean’s jaw to his lips. “You’re sure?” 

“Yes,” moaned Dean. “For the love of God, just fuck me already.” 

Cas’ had slid away from Dean’s ass and he began slowly stroking his cock. He ran his thumb over the head then back down the shaft. 

Dean bit his lip and brought his knees toward his chest as Cas lined himself up with Dean’s entrance. It began with a slow, steady stretch. Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s chest and Dean grabbed it, squeezing as tight as he could. It wasn’t going to hurt. He wasn’t afraid. He wanted this. The more he told himself these things the truer they seemed to become.

Cas pushed himself deeper. He started with long, slow thrusts. Dean opened his legs so the other man could lean down closer to him. His pelvis began rocking on its own, an instinctual reaction to match Cas’ pace. The burn from the intrusion quickly subsided and Castiel pumped his hips faster. He dug his fingers into Dean’s upper thighs and plunged deeper. 

Dean cried out, clawing at the bed. His muscles spasmed but it wasn’t enough. Cas was panting above him, rocking the entire bed as they moved together. Dean lifted his knees higher and suddenly Cas was pounding against his prostate. He felt a hand grip his aching cock and it was more than he could stand. 

He was drunk. His body was behaving as pleasure dictated. He couldn’t think, couldn’t move, could barely process the different sensations hitting him at once. He felt lips press against his. He heard Cas whisper “I love you” and heard himself reply. He felt Cas thrusting faster and faster until pleasure stopped coming in waves and became one long, over-powering flood. 

At some point Dean shoved Cas’ hand aside and he gripped his own cock. Cas dug his nails into Dean’s hips and made a sinful, obscene sound. He felt Cas’ hips stutter, felt him come inside him. Suddenly, he was empty and Cas disappeared. The other man quickly replaced his cock with two fingers and began a merciless assault on Dean’s prostate. He pushed Dean’s hands away and swallowed his cock, sucking and licking until Dean was a helpless, writhing mess. 

He gasped and his vision went black. He came hard in Cas’ mouth and the next few moments blurred together.

When he came back to himself, he was lying exhausted and weak in Cas’ arms. Dean tilted his head up and kissed him will all the energy he had left. 

“Oh my God,” panted Dean. 

“Did I do it right?” asked Cas. He was drenched in sweat and his hair stuck to his forehead. 

Dean stared at him, speechless.

“If felt good to me,” he continued, blush rising in his cheeks. “Did it feel good for you?” 

“Cas, that was suspiciously good,” answered Dean. “Like, I don’t believe you’ve only fucked somebody once. That was—fuck—there aren’t words. How did you—fuck—where did you learn that?” 

Cas seemed to relax. “I’ve been doing a lot of research lately. There are some very useful instructional videos. Plus, I happen to have a slight advantage in that I’m very good with human anatomy.” 

Dean kissed him again. “I can’t feel my legs,” he said. “Next time, I’m going to fuck you. You’ve got to know what that felt like.” 

Cas grinned. “I’m pretty sure I had an equally leg-numbing experience.” He was absent-mindedly stroking Dean’s hair. 

Dean laughed and nuzzled against him. “I’m starving,” he said. “Let’s get cleaned up and I’ll make us something to eat.” 

“No,” groaned Cas. “I’m too comfortable.” 

Dean wriggled free and tugged at Cas’ arm. “Come on,” he said. “We can get comfortable on the couch and watch another Jurassic-something movie.” 

“You still haven’t seen the new one.” 

“There you go,” said Dean. “We’ll get clean, get food, get comfortable and watch the new one.” 

Cas groaned again. “Fine, but only because you insist.” 

Apparently a post-sex, committed-relationship Castiel had no concept of personal space. They cleaned up together, made food together, found the DVD together and got comfortable on the couch together. Through it all, Cas was either playing with Dean’s hand, kissing his neck, fussing with his hair, or wrapping Dean in his arms. 

He stretched out on the couch to watch the movie. Dean curled up on top of him with his head resting just under Cas’ chin. He felt disgustingly domestic and completely satisfied. Cas fell asleep halfway through the movie and Dean spent more time listening to his heartbeat than watching the screen.

* * *

They went to the lake again after breakfast the next day and again they had the beach to themselves. This time Cas didn’t hesitate. He went straight for the deeper water. He grinned and splashed around waiting for Dean to join him.

“You are a giddy moron,” said Dean.

Cas splashed him. “So are you,” he said. “You’ve been blushing since yesterday and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you smile so much.”

Dean splashed him back. “I have not been blushing since yesterday.” 

“Yes you have and it’s only endeared me to you more.” 

Dean rubbed his cheeks, wondering if that could possibly be true. “Well you’ve been blushing too,” he said.

“I don’t doubt it,” said Cas. “The last time I felt this good I passed out and had to have my stomach pumped.”

Dean’s face fell. “Jesus Christ, Cas. What happened?”

“I’ve told you that story, haven’t I?” asked Cas. “It was when I was living with Balthazar.”

“You haven’t told me anything about Balthazar,” said Dean. He couldn’t remember what Cas had actually said to him versus what he’d overheard the night Anna went to the house. 

Cas rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, well to be fair it was one of the most embarrassing periods in my life and I’m not exactly proud of it.”

“You’ve already witnessed a lot of my most embarrassing moments,” said Dean. “It’s only fair.” 

“There isn’t much to tell, and honestly I don’t remember most of it.” 

“But you remember overdosing?”

Cas sank lower in the water. “I wasn’t at my healthiest.” 

Dean took Cas’ hands in his. “Who’s Balthazar, what did he do to you, and do I need to kill him?” 

“He didn’t do anything. He wasn’t well and I thought I could fix him – save him.” Cas sighed. “It’s an unremarkable story. I sold him some stuff. He kept coming back. I started supplying him for free because he lost his job. Then he moved in with me. It wasn’t romantic, but I cared for him deeply.” 

Dean couldn’t help but log away the similarities between this story and his own. 

Cas shrugged. “In retrospect we brought out the worst in each other. I came home one night and he had acquired some new drug I’d never heard of and offered to share. I wanted to impress him so I accepted without question. His tolerance was obviously much higher than mine. I remember thinking air tasted blue and that I could fly.” He glanced up at Dean. “I’d like to say I whole-heartedly regret it, but in all honesty, I was blissfully happy.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “But?” 

“But I blacked out and woke up in the hospital alone.” 

“Where was Balthazar?” 

Cas scrunched his nose. “I’m not entirely sure what happened. From what I pieced together, I must have been unresponsive long enough that he panicked. I think he called 911, gave them my address then ran. In his defen—” 

“What the fuck do you mean he ran? He left you?” 

“I think so. I talked to the EMTs who found me. They said I was alone, but I really don—”

“That little bitch. You could have died!”

“He was a very broken person.”

“No, fuck that guy. He almost killed you.” 

“Dean.” 

“Did he try to see you again? Does he know if you’re all right? You helped him out and he fucked you over. Where does he live? Does he live here?”

“It was years ago. I lived on the coast. I didn’t hear from him again and, to be fair, I never tried to contact him either.” 

“Good fucking riddance. I hope that fucker is rotting in a crack house.” 

“I knew what I was getting myself into. I told myself I’d treat him like a patient, but I didn’t.” 

Dean took Cas’ face in his hands. “Fuck. That. Guy. You could have died. He betrayed you.” 

Cas sighed. “I was mad at him at first,” he said. “Being angry was exhausting. It took me a long time, but now I recognize the relationship for what it was and I’m really not upset about it anymore. It was a good lesson to learn both about myself and other people.”

Dean shook his head. “No fucking wonder your family thinks I’m a sketchy asshole.” 

Cas laughed. “My family hasn’t exactly trusted my judgment since that incident. They’ve never really trusted my judgment.” 

“I can’t believe you almost died,” said Dean.

“I would have died very happy,” said Cas. “Whatever he gave me was extremely effective.”

Dean kissed him, if only because he wasn’t sure what to say. Wishing Balthazar dead didn’t feel good enough. Holding Cas wasn’t good enough. Cas was a beautiful bright spark in an ugly world. He was good like Sam and Bobby and their goodness made them vulnerable to needy bastards like Balthazar and John. Dean wasn’t good like they were, but he wasn’t needy either. He didn’t fit. 

“Come back,” said Cas.

Dean scowled. “What?”

“You were off in your head.”

“Sorry,” muttered Dean.

Cas huffed and pressed his forehead against Dean’s. The world was small and quiet for a moment. Dean focused on the way it felt to lean against Cas, to capture his fingers, to breathe into him.

“I love you very much,” said Cas quietly.

“I love you, too,” said Dean.


	31. Bang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't panic

Good things didn’t last for Dean Winchester. Peace was a concept, not a reality. Danger was never far away and the people he loved were never safe. He knew that. He knew better than to let his guard down. He knew not to get too comfortable no matter how deceptively calm his life became. 

Sam started school. Dean finally returned to his job. Cas stopped selling drugs and started looking for real work. Bobby remained the same. At the end of his shift, Dean stopped by Bobby’s office to let him know he was leaving.

“I’m heading out,” he said. “I’m making dinner for Cas tonight.” 

“It’s a wonder that boy ate anything before he met you,” muttered Bobby. “Take this with you.” He handed Dean a sheet of paper. 

Dean took it and frowned at what looked like a real estate listing. “Whose house is this?” he asked.

“It was a rental,” he answered. “It butts against the north end of my property.” 

“Are you going to buy it or something?”

Bobby scribbled something on the slip of paper in front of him, then handed that to him as well. It was a check for six grand made out Dean. 

Dean looked at the check, then back at Bobby.

“Sold those cars you worked on,” said Bobby. “Figured you might want to start a savings account.” 

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“It’s not much,” said Bobby. “I know how much work you put in and a few of them were worth a lot more than what I could get, but it’s a start and you deserve it.”

Dean started to shake his head and hand the check back. 

“Don’t put up a fuss,” he said. “Just take it. You earned it.” He jabbed a finger at Dean. “Don't turn around and give it to Sam. I’m taking care of him.” 

“But,” began Dean, unsure of where the rest of that sentence was going to go, “I don’t—I can’t—they were your cars.”

“They were going to rust and die with the rest of my crap. You saved them, you get the reward.”

“How much is Sam’s tuition?” As if he didn’t already know. He really wanted to ask how much Sam got in loans and scholarships and how much Bobby was paying. 

Bobby held up another check. “This is two grand,” he said. “Got that for another one of your cars. If you want to help Sam, you can buy him books for the next four years. Tuition is covered mostly with scholarships. We’ll worry about student loans later.” 

Dean nodded quickly. 

Bobby smirked. “I know you’re proud of him and I figured you’d want to contribute to his education.” 

“Hell yeah I do,” said Dean. 

Bobby gave him the other check. “This will be your share of the cost of collage.”

“What about law school?” 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” answered Bobby. “I’m not worried and you shouldn’t be either.” 

Dean glanced back at the flyer in his hand. “And this?” he asked. 

Bobby sighed. “I’m not stupid,” he said. “You’re a grown man. You won’t be happy living with me forever and neither will Sam.” He sighed again. “But, I thought, you might be happy living near me.”

He pursed his lips and for the first time since Dean had met him, he looked nervous. 

“It’s small,” continued Bobby, “and it needs some work, but the bones are good. It’s a good price and if you need to expand it, I could give you a couple acres to stretch out.” 

“I can’t—”

“You can,” said Bobby. He pointed to the check. “I looked into it and that will cover the down payment. I’ll make sure you stay covered.”

“No,” said Dean, “I mean, this is too much.”

“Don’t be stupid,” said Bobby. “I don’t have any kids. I’m not married. I hate everyone. You and Sam are all I’ve got. You two have been in my will for years. Everything I own will eventually go to you anyway.” 

“I don’t know what to say,” said Dean. Stunned didn’t accurately cover how he was feeling.

“Say thank you and that you’ll think about it.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve scheduled a walk-through of the property for tomorrow. It hasn’t rented for a few months. I wanted to check it out. You’re welcome to come with me.” 

“Thank you,” murmured Dean. 

“You’re welcome,” said Bobby. “Now go make dinner for your boyfriend.”

Dean tried to say more, but Bobby waved him away. He wondered if Sam knew. He stared down at the flyer as he walked out to his car. He took a picture of it and sent it to his brother with the caption “want to buy a house?”

As soon as he got behind the wheel, his phone rang. “Hey, Sammy,” he said.

“Are you going to buy it?”

“I don't know,” answered Dean. “Bobby just handed me some info for a house and a check for six grand and said I should think about buying the house.” 

“Oh, cool,” said Sam. “He gave you the car money?” 

“You knew?” 

“Duh,” answered Sam. “He was going to tell you what he was doing and make sure you were all right with the prices. I told him to just do it because you’d never agree to take the money unless it was already in cash or check form.” 

“I’d agree,” said Dean.

“No you wouldn’t,” said Sam. “I bet he had to talk you into taking a check. Did he tell you about his will? I told him he’d have to go ahead and tell you that before you’d take anything.” 

“So you’re just in on all of it.”

“Yeah. It’s a pretty cool house, too. You should think about buying it. That plus the two acres would be sweet. You’d have room for your own garage. I could build a house next to yours or we could just make the original one really big.”

“God dammit,” muttered Dean.

“I had a long talk with Bobby about it,” said Sam. “I promised him if he talked it over with me, he wouldn’t have to repeat himself with you. You don’t have to buy the house, but the land is already ours. I gave him a dollar for it. I think you still need to sign some paperwork.” 

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face.

“He almost cried while we were talking,” said Sam. “He said he wanted to do something nice for us because we are like sons to him.”

Dean swore again.

“We have to take it,” said Sam. “And we have to let him help. I think he feels guilty. If this makes him feel better, we have to let him do it.”

“He doesn’t need to feel guilty,” said Dean.

“I also think he loves us a lot,” said Sam. “This is like a hug or something. You know Bobby; he’s not really a touchy-feely kind of person. This is his way of saying he cares.” 

“I don’t know what to say,” said Dean.

“I said thank you.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, so did I.”

“Then that’s all you need to do. I have to go to class. Are you staying with Cas tonight?”

“Yeah, planning on it.”

“Ok. I’ll see you tomorrow for the walk through.” 

“Know-it-all,” muttered Dean. “See you tomorrow.” He hung up and headed to Cas’.

He parked in the driveway and after a moment of debate, tucked the checks and the flyer into the glove compartment. Something in his chest stung when he thought about the house and Cas.

What if he doesn’t stay here forever? 

The sting grew, radiating up into his neck and down into the rest of his body. He took a deep breath and looked at where his hands were gripping the steering wheel. They suddenly seemed closer, connected. He recognized them as an extension of himself. He felt the wheel in his grip, noticed how cool the air was around him. He felt whole. He came back.

He blinked in surprise, then got out of the car. Everything seemed normal. He looked at his hands again. They were still his and he felt everything down to the tips of his toes. He rushed into the house. 

“Cas,” he called. “I’ve got something awesome and weird to tell you.” 

“Are those two separate things or the same thing?” asked Cas.

Dean followed the voice into the kitchen. Candlelight made the room glow and something smelled delicious.

Cas stood by the table looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

“You cooked,” said Dean.

“I cooked,” confirmed Cas. “And I didn’t burn anything. I even made dessert.”

Dean sniffed. “Oh my God, is that pie? Did you make apple pie?”

“I did,” answered Cas. 

Dean crossed the kitchen and pulled the other man into a kiss. “I don’t deserve you,” he said. “What’s for dinner?”

“Braised beef ribs and mashed potatoes.”

Dean examined the table as Cas pulled the lid off of the Dutch oven Dean had left at the house. “That was ambitious,” he said. “And no fires?”

“No fires, no smoke and I didn’t burn myself either,” answered Cas. “But you have something to tell me. What is it?” 

Dean squeezed Cas a little tighter and buried his face against his shoulder. It was too much. He left his shitty life behind and when he finally came back to himself, things were suddenly better. John was still dead and Alastair was still loose, but everything else had improved so much he barely recognized this life as his own.

Maybe Cas knew that. He always seemed to be in Dean’s head, know what Dean was thinking without needing an explanation. He sighed against Castiel’s skin as he realized he could feel him again. Cas was real and solid and Dean was actually standing in the kitchen holding him in his arms. They were together and free and Dean loved him. 

He couldn’t name everything he was feeling but it didn’t matter because it was all so vibrant. It took him a moment to realize Cas was rocking them slowly side-to-side.

“I’ve felt so hollow for so long,” muttered Dean. “I don’t know how it happened, but I started feeling things again today.”

Cas squeezed him and pressed his lips to Dean’s ear. “You came back,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” answered Dean. “I guess I did.”

* * *

Dean was happy. The emotion was bright and present and he knew, without question, he was the happiest he’d ever been. Cas was snuggled on top of him on the couch. "Snuggled" was the only way to describe it. His head was tucked beneath Dean’s chin and he had one arm under his cheek and the other curved around Dean’s chest. Their legs were tangled together under a light blanket. 

They both ate too much but it was too early for bed so Dean put on some music and they ended up snuggling on the couch. Dean was absentmindedly tracing patterns up and down Castiel’s back. It didn’t feel dirty or wrong, it felt perfectly normal as if they’d always done this; as if there was never a time when one of them existed without the other. 

Cas’ phone buzzed on the coffee table. “Go away,” muttered Cas, reaching blindly.

Dean handed him the phone.

“Whoever you are, I’ll have you know you’re interrupting a very pleasant evening,” said Cas as he answered the call.

Dean could hear the voice on the other end. When they spoke, his blood ran cold. 

“I know what you did,” said the caller. “I know it was you and I know you think you’ll get away with it.”

Cas sat up and quickly pushed away from Dean. “Where are you?” he asked. 

“Closer than I was before.” 

Dean snatched the phone away. “You son of a bitch,” he growled. The line was quiet. The voice on the other end was gone. “That was Alastair,” snapped Dean. “Why is he calling you?”

“I don’t know,” answered Cas. He suddenly looked very pale.

“What was he talking about? What does he think you did?”

“I assume he’s mad about Crowley and Naomi,” answered Cas.

“He said he was closer than he was before,” said Dean. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” answered Cas. “He’s mad. He's probably just trying to scare me.”

“I need to warn Bobby. He might try to go after him or Sam.” 

Cas nodded. “Call Bobby,” he said. “I’ll make sure the doors and windows are locked.” 

Dean grabbed his phone and pressed the speed dial button for Bobby. Cas headed to the back of the house so Dean made sure the windows and door at the front were locked. 

“Hey Dean,” answered Bobby. 

“Hey, uh, so don’t panic or anything, but Alastair just called Cas. He said he knew what Cas did. Cas asked where he was and he said ‘closer than I was before,’ whatever that means.”

“That son of a bitch," muttered Bobby. "I want both of you over here pronto.”

“I don’t want to lead him to you and Sam.”

“I dare him to set foot on my land,” growled Bobby. “It’ll be the last thing he ever does.” 

Dean heard something click in the background. 

“I’ve got to call Rufus. Get what you need and head over here. I’ll call you again in five minutes. You better be in the car and on the road.” 

“All right,” said Dean. “See you soon.” He hung up.

Satisfied with the security of the kitchen and living room, he went to collect his bag and his boyfriend. “Cas,” he called. “We've got to go.” Before he’d managed to set foot in the hall he heard a gun go off. Without thinking, he ran toward the sound.


	32. Beyond This Point

“Dean, run!” Cas’ voice rang out from the bedroom. 

The gun went off again as Dean rushed into the room. He saw everything in a blur and didn’t stop to process any of it. He knew Cas was on the floor. He knew the man shooting at him was Alastair. He knew throwing himself at a man with a loaded gun was a bad idea. He knew Alastair’s last shot missed. 

They crashed to the ground, each of them gripping the weapon. Dean slammed his forehead into Alastair’s nose. Alastair’s finger was still on the trigger and all of his strength seemed to be going to reclaiming control of the gun. His eyes were wide, madness and rage pounding just below the surface.

“Deano,” he said. “I remember you.”

Dean hesitated for one second too many. Alastair managed to roll them over and straddle Dean’s waist, pinning him to the floor.

“Maybe you and I can have some fun tonight,” said Alastair. “I don’t know about you, but I had a hell of a time during our last encounter.” 

Something moved behind Alastair. Dean looked up and saw Cas was on his feet.

Alastair ripped the gun from Dean’s hands, but instead of shooting him, he whipped around and aimed the gun at Cas.

“No,” shouted Dean.

Alastair pulled the trigger and Castiel collapsed. He hit the floor with a guttural, choking sound. Alastair turned his attention back to Dean. “Be good, or I’ll kill him.” He pressed his hips down against Dean’s body.

Dean wasn’t sure what he said next. His vision turned red. He reached for the gun and snatched it from Alastair’s grip. It flew across the room. He planet his feet, grabbed Alastair by the shoulders and flipped them over. Next thing he knew, his hands were around Alastair’s throat and he was watching his eyes bulge out of his face. He clawed at Dean’s hands and gasped for air. Dean shifted his weight forward, putting all of the pressure on Alastair’s neck.

 _Kill him_. 

It wasn’t fast or clean or easy. A blood vessel burst in one of Alastair’s eyes. He tore skin away from the back of Dean’s hands as he fought for his life. His tongue stuck of his mouth, swollen and discolored and saliva trickled down his cheek. His muscles constricted and recoiled. He kicked and squirmed beneath Dean. 

He wasn’t sure how long it took Alastair to die, but he knew his hands were getting tired. He could still hear Cas’ labored breathing behind him. Finally the man beneath him stopped struggling. Dean got off of him and retrieved the gun. He shot Alastair once in the face for good measure, then hurried to Cas’ side. 

He’d been hit in his stomach and chest and he was still bleeding. Dean grabbed a blanket and tried to press down to stop the blood flow. “Can you hear me?” 

Cas’ eyes were glossy and half closed. His breath hitched as he inhaled.

“Don’t leave me,” said Dean. “Don’t you dare leave me.” 

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He took another breath and his eyes seemed to find Dean. He lifted a hand and laid it over Dean’s.

“You’re not going to die tonight,” said Dean. “I’m going to call for help. I’ll be right back.” He didn’t look to see if that registered. He hurried to the living room, grabbed his phone and rushed back to Cas’ side. He put his phone on speaker and resumed pressure on the wounds. 

“911 what is your emergency?” 

“Multiple gunshot wounds to the torso,” shouted Dean. “He’s dying.” He had to repeat the information and Cas’ address several times before the operator understood him. He couldn’t calm his voice, couldn’t make himself stop shouting. 

“An ambulance is on the way.”

Dean didn’t hear the next question. He focused on Cas, watched the way he slowly blinked, then finally closed his eyes. He kept his hand firmly pressed against Cas’ chest and stomach, keeping track of his breaths.

_The door is locked. They can’t get in._

Dean scooped Cas up in his arms and ran to the front door. He fumbled with the lock, trying not to jostle Cas, and managed to get it open. He burst outside into the cool night air and dropped to his knees on the grass. He heard a siren in the distance, but it wasn’t the first car to arrive.

Bobby’s truck screeched to a halt in the driveway beside the Impala. He tumbled out of the vehicle and rushed to Dean’s side.

He pulled Cas out of Dean’s arms and onto the grass. He removed the blanket and checked his wounds. 

“Where’s Alastair?” he asked. 

“Dead,” answered Dean. 

“How and who did it?” 

“I strangled him,” answered Dean. “Then I shot him.”

“No you didn’t,” said Bobby. “Don’t admit to anything yet. Get in the ambulance with Cas. Don’t give them information about Alastair. I’ll handle the rest.” 

Bright lights poured into the yard. Two police cars stopped in front of the house, followed by an ambulance and a fire truck. 

“You’re distraught,” hissed Bobby. “Go with him and don’t say anything unless it’s to save his life.” 

Dean nodded as a small team in varying uniforms swarmed the yard. Bobby stood up and flashed a badge Dean had never seen before. 

“Robert Singer, CIA,” he said. “I’ve called for FBI backup. We’ll take it from here.”

* * *

Dean refused medical treatment. His hands shook as he tried to scrub away the blood in the hospital bathroom. Cas was still in surgery. He stared at the water as it faded to a pale pink. 

The bathroom door opened. “Dean?”

“I’m ok,” he said. 

Sam showed up at he hospital not long after he and Cas arrived. He assumed Bobby sent him.

“I’ve got some stuff for your hands,” said Sam, holding up a small black bag. 

“I don’t need it.”

“It’s to hide the scratches,” he said. “Bobby’s orders.”

The door swung open again and Rufus entered. He locked the door behind him.

 _Cas is going to die and I’m going to jail._  

Dean shook his head and presented his hands to Sam and Rufus.

“Holy shit,” breathed Sam. 

“This is going to sting,” said Rufus. He took the bag and set it on one of the sinks. 

“My skin is under his fingernails,” said Dean. “They’ll know I killed him.” 

“You didn’t kill him,” said Rufus. He pulled a small brown bottle from the bag and unscrewed the lid. “He broke into the house looking for Castiel. He broke the lock on the back door and forced his way in. He shot Castiel and you jumped him. You two struggled, lost the gun, and in a panic you tried to strangle him.” 

The lid of the bottle had a small brush attached to it. Rufus began painting the back of Dean’s hands with something sticky and transparent. 

“Castiel got back up, you got off of Alastair to find the gun and call for help,” continued Rufus. “While you were watching Castiel, Alastair found the gun and shot him again. You tried to get the gun away from him. You two fell and when you did, the gun went off in his face.” 

“Sounds legit,” said Sam. 

“It’s hard for you to talk about it right now,” said Rufus. “It happened so fast, you’re not really sure what you remember.” He pointed to the dryer in the corner. “Stick your hands under that so they’ll dry faster.” 

Dean followed his instructions. “Do you know anything about Cas?” he asked. “Have you seen him?”

“Fractured rib and a punctured lung,” answered Rufus. “The upper bullet missed his heart and I think the lower on missed his stomach. I’ve seen injuries like that before. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“Have you seen him?” asked Dean again.

“No,” answered Rufus. “Just read the report.”

Dean felt a hand on his shoulder. Rufus pulled him away from the dryer and back over to the sink. 

“He’s going to be all right,” said Rufus. He reached in the bag and pulled out a tube. This time the liquid he spread on Dean’s hands was white. It dried quickly and turned a pale tan color. 

“Is that latex?” asked Sam. 

Rufus nodded. “Liquid bandage, latex, then some concealer and his hands will be good as new.” He looked up at Dean. “Did you wash you feet already?” 

He nodded. Sam was the one who sent him into the bathroom to get cleaned up. Dean arrived barefoot so a nurse gave him a pair of slippers. 

“Almost done,” said Rufus. “We’ve got shoes and clean clothes for you. Don’t leave anything here.” 

As soon as his hands were painted and dry, Sam brought in a plastic bag with a new outfit. Dean changed in the stall and shoved his other clothes into the bag along with the slippers.

Rufus looked him over, then nodded. “I think you’re good to go,” he said. “I’ll wipe down the bathroom. You boys go back to the waiting room.”

Sam steered Dean back outside. Sam pushed him into a chair and Dean tried not to fidget with his hands. 

“So,” said Sam. “Rufus is FBI?” 

“I guess so,” muttered Dean. He fixed his eyes on the doors that led to Cas.

“CIA and FBI,” said Sam. “Or maybe neither. Maybe it's all a cover for something else. They know a lot about forensics, that’s for damn sure.”

“I can’t complain,” said Dean.

Sam nudged him gently. “He’s going to be all right.”

It was hours before anything happened. Dean kept wandering up to the desk to see if there was any news. Sam had to put him on a schedule; he was only allowed to ask every 45 minutes.

Around midnight, a familiar looking woman rushed up to the desk. “Is Castiel Novak still in surgery?” she asked.

Dean jumped up. He knew her. 

“I’m his sister,” she continued. “What room is he in?”

“Anna,” he said. “Cas is still in surgery, but they think he’s going to be all right. Did you just get here?”

“Actually,” said the woman at the desk, “he just got out. They’re moving him to the ICU. I can show you where he’ll be.”

“Thank you,” said Anna. 

“He’s ok?” asked Sam, suddenly appearing right behind Dean.  

“Yes,” answered the woman. “Are you family?”

“No,” answered Anna quickly. She didn’t even look at them. “His brothers – our brothers are on the way. One will be here later tonight.”

“I’m his boyfriend,” said Dean. “I need to see him.”

The woman glanced at Anna. “I’m sorry,” she said slowly. “Only family is allowed beyond this point.” She put her hand on Anna’s shoulder to lead her away.

Dean clenched his jaw and followed them. 

“Sir,” said the woman, “you need to wait here.” 

Anna didn’t turn around.

“I need to see him,” said Dean. “Just let me see him.”

“It’s hospital policy,” she said. “Only family at this time.” 

“That’s a damn lie. You're covering for Anna.”

Sam tugged at the back of his shirt. “Let it go,” he muttered. “We’ll see him later.” 

“This is bullshit,” said Dean.

The woman winced and almost looked apologetic. “I’m sorry. It’s our policy.” 

“Anna, tell her I can see him.”

Anna turned around, tears in her eyes. “Dean, right?”

“Yes.” 

“I don’t know what you did to him, but as long as I’m alive you’ll never see him again.”

Sam grabbed him and pulled him away.

“You don’t know what happened,” said Dean. “Please, he trusts you. Just let me look at him. I need to see that he’s ok.”

She turned stiffly and followed the woman. 

“Son of a bitch,” said Dean. “Anna, come back here.” 

Sam was pulling him out of the waiting room. “Shut up,” he hissed. “If you make a scene we’ll never get to see him.” 

“This is bullshit and you know it,” shouted Dean.

“Shhh. For the love of God, stop yelling. We’ll figure it out. At least we know he’s all right.”

“It’s not fair,” growled Dean.

“I agree, but we can’t do anything about it right now. When Cas wakes up I’m sure you’ll be the first person he asks to see.”

“That bitch called his brothers,” said Dean. “They won’t let me in. I fucking know. They’re going to block me.”

“Cas can override them. Don’t worry.” Sam dragged him into an elevator. 

Dean shoved him away. “Dammit, Sammy. We live in bum-fuck nowhere. No one is going to give a shit if some man doesn’t get to see his boyfriend. Nobody cares. Nobody’s going to listen to me or Cas. His family is loaded. They could have him airlifted out of here and I’ll never see him again.” 

“Don’t panic,” said Sam. “I know you’re pissed. I’m pissed, too. But right now, Cas is still here and we don’t know what anybody is going to do next. You’ve got to chill and stop drawing attention to us.” 

Dean clamped his mouth shut and started pacing. The elevator dinged as they hit the first floor. Sam took hold of him again and led him out into the parking lot. They stopped at Sam’s car. 

“I’m not leaving,” said Dean. 

“Fine,” said Sam. “Just get in the car.”

“No.” 

“Yes,” said Sam.

“I’m not leaving him.” 

“I told you, you don’t have to. Just sit here until Bobby shows up.”

“I’m going to the ICU waiting room,” he said. “They can’t keep me from sitting there.”

Sam dropped his voice to just below a whisper. “Get in the car. I need to say something that I can’t say out here.” He opened the passenger door.

“Fine,” muttered Dean.

Sam walked briskly around the car and got in. He locked the doors. “I know you’re upset,” he said, still whispering, “but please, for the love of fuck, think about yourself for just a second.” 

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. 

“You killed somebody,” whispered Sam. “All jokes aside, I don’t how much Bobby can help. Maybe this will go away, maybe it won’t. But if you get arrested and charged with murder, it’s not going to help your case if you were seen lashing out at hospital staff.” 

He didn’t answer. Sam was right, but that was way too much to think about. 

“We’ll wait for Bobby,” he said. “He’ll know what to do.” 

“I should be in the waiting room,” muttered Dean.

“We can go back inside if you promise me you’ll stay calm.” 

He ran his hands over his face. “I’ll be calm,” he said.


	33. Silver Lining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have waited long enough so I'm posting two chapters today :)

Dean sat between Bobby and Sam in a row of small gray chairs outside of the ICU. They’d been in the waiting room for too damn long but Dean was doing his best to stay calm. He channeled his rage into a glare, which he focused on the front desk. His knee was bouncing, but there was nothing he could do to stop that. He had to do something and Sam made him stop pacing an hour ago.

Bobby showed up shortly after they went back inside. Sam asked about the attack and Bobby said they were in the clear. 

The official story was that Bobby arrived just in time to see Dean struggling with Alastair and witness the fall and accidental shot. Accident. It wasn’t murder. It was self-defense that led to a fatality. No one knew why Alastair was after Cas. That part was actually true. Dean knew it was revenge, but he wasn’t sure if Alastair intended to kill Cas or wreak havoc in some other way. 

Dean might need to give a statement and they might need information from Cas as well. He wasn’t sure who “they” were. Bobby kept telling him not to worry. 

A blonde woman in scrubs peered into the waiting room. Her eyes brightened when she saw Dean. She jerked her head toward the hall then vanished around the corner. 

“I’ll be back,” said Dean. 

“Do you know her?” asked Sam. Apparently he saw her too. 

“Know who?” asked Bobby. 

Sam started explaining as Dean left. He ducked around the corner and came face to face with the woman. 

She had a chart in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She handed the drink to Dean. “My name’s Jo,” she said. “I think you know my mom.” 

He took the cup and tried to figure out if he’d seen her somewhere before. 

“You’re Dean,” she said. “My mom’s Ellen Harvelle.” 

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah, I’m her patient.” 

“I’ve seen you at her office,” she said quickly. “I mean, that’s how a recognize you. I don’t want you to worry about a breech of trust or anything. I don’t _know_ you. I’ve just seen you around.” 

“Ok,” said Dean, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m a medical student,” she said. “I’ve got friends in different parts of the hospital. I heard through the grapevine that you’ve got somebody in ICU.” 

Dean didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he exhaled. “Yes,” he said. “Castiel Novak.” 

“I also heard his family isn’t letting you see him.” 

“Can you get me in?” 

She shook her head. “No, but—” She snapped her mouth shut as a few nurses walked by. She waited until they were around the corner. “Laugh,” she hissed. 

“Why?” 

“Just do it. We’re just two friends catching up.” 

Dean gave his best fake laugh and took a quick sip of coffee. 

“He’s going to be all right,” she whispered. “Don’t tell anyone I told you.”

Dean’s knees almost buckled. He leaned against the wall.

“His sister won’t let me in.” 

“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry but this is the best I can do.” 

Dean rubbed his forehead. He had a massive headache and he wasn’t sure when it started. He just noticed it. “But he’s ok?” he asked. 

“I’m pretty confident he’s going to come out of this good as new.” 

He let out a deep breath. “Thank you,” he said. “I owe you big time."

“Just drink your coffee and try to relax. I’ll keep an eye on him.” She smiled and squeezed his arm. “I thought you deserved to know, but you didn’t hear it from me. Got it?”

“Got it,” he said. He watched her walk away feeling a thousand pounds lighter. He found his way back to the others and collapsed in his chair. 

“What was that about?” asked Sam. 

“Cas is all right,” said Dean. He sighed and felt himself relax in his seat. 

“Did you know her?” asked Bobby.

“She’s my therapist’s daughter,” answered Dean. “She said she’s seen me at her mom’s office. I’ve never talked to her before.” 

“I feel like there’re more than a few HIPAA violations in there somewhere,” muttered Sam. 

“Has she seen Cas?” asked Bobby.

“I don’t know. She said she’s got friends who have or something.” He shook his head. “I don’t care how she knows. I’m just glad he’s all right.”

“Can she get you in?” asked Sam. 

“No,” answered Dean. “But they can’t keep me away forever.” 

Bobby looked down at his phone. “Rufus is on the way up. Sam, he’s going to ride home with you and stay the night at the house.” 

“I’m not planning on going home,” said Sam. 

“I’m sending you home,” said Bobby. “It’s late and unless I’m mistaken, you have classes to go to tomorrow.” 

“I can miss a few classes,” said Sam. “I haven’t skipped any yet I’ve only got lectures tomorrow. No one will notice if I’m there or not.” 

“It’s not up for debate,” said Bobby. “We’ll keep you updated. I’m going to stay with your brother and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. Rufus is going to keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t do anything stupid.” 

Sam muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t argue when Rufus showed up to take him home. They said goodnight to Bobby and Dean and Sam promised to return as soon as he could. 

“I’m glad you made him go home,” said Dean. “He doesn’t need to fall behind in school.” 

“I’d make you go home too, if I thought you’d listen,” said Bobby. “You need to get some sleep.” 

“I need more coffee,” he said. 

“I second that,” said Bobby. “Need to stretch my legs.” 

* * *

Dean still wasn’t allowed to see Cas the next morning. Sometime around 9 a.m. two men approached the front desk. They didn’t bother looking at anyone else in the waiting room. Dean recognized one of them, which meant the other one had to be Zachariah.

“Michael,” muttered Dean. “I can’t believe she called them.” 

“His brothers?” asked Bobby. 

“Yeah. The gang’s all here.” 

“Cas’ doctor will probably keep him in the ICU for the rest of the day,” said Bobby, suppressing a yawn. “I’m sure they will want to keep him under observation for 24 hours. He probably needed a blood transfusion.” 

Dean leaned forward and put his head in his hands. 

“I’m kind of surprised we haven’t been kicked out yet,” said Bobby. “Your friend must have put in a good word.” 

“Where will he go after the ICU?” asked Dean. 

“Probably to a regular room. They’ll want to keep an eye on him for another day or two.” 

“This is bullshit,” said Dean. “I should be with him.” 

“We’ll figure it out,” said Bobby. “Don’t worry.” 

Dean yawned for the third time in less than ten minutes. 

“Let me take you home,” said Bobby. “It’s good for the staff to know we’re not going to lurk around here for days on end. Besides, you’re going to want to be alert when you see Cas. We’ll go home, catch a few hours of sleep, then head right back up here.”

Dean shook his head. “I can’t go.” 

“You’re not doing any good just sitting here stressing yourself out. Cas wouldn’t want you to sit here without taking a break.” He paused. “And, no offense, but you look like hell. You’re starting to get crazy eyes. You need to recharge.” 

Dean blinked heavily. Sleep was tempting, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

“We need to regroup,” said Bobby. “I might know somebody who can help. If we go home, I’ll check my contacts and see if I can cash in any favors to get you in to see him.” 

Dean huffed. “Are you trying to bribe me with more of your ‘contacts?’”

“Yes,” answered Bobby. 

“Fine,” he muttered. “We can go home, but only for a little while. I don’t want to miss anything.”

Bobby promised to let Dean return in the evening. They went home and Dean collapsed on the couch. The Impala was back in the driveway where it belonged. Dean’s keys, wallet and phone were in his room. He didn’t know what Bobby and Rufus had to do to cover his ass and wondering about it wasn’t the distraction he hoped it would be. 

He couldn’t eat or sleep so he made a pot of coffee. A shower and three cups later, he was pacing outside on the porch with his phone in his hand. He didn’t expect anyone to call him but holding it made him feel closer to Cas. 

An hour later, Bobby was still asleep. Dean made an executive decision. He’d been very patient and had waited long enough. He grabbed his keys, cranked up the Impala and headed into town. 

At the hospital, he returned to his post and resumed staring at the doors to the ICU. If he knew Cas’ room number he could just walk back there and wait for the other Novaks to take a break. He’d seen enough people go in and out of the doors to know he didn’t need a code to get through. Technically there wasn’t anything stopping him from wandering back there. He could pretend to be lost if anyone questioned him.

He chewed on his lip and eyed the woman sitting at the desk. She’d been there since 8 a.m. and didn’t seem to take note of him earlier. She didn’t seem particularly aware of him now. Still, it was better to play it safe. 

A few minutes later she stood up and wandered away from her post. Dean got up quickly and, as casually as he could, strolled through the doors to the ICU. 

The area was not as big as he’d expected but everyone seemed busy. A few doors were closed and Dean wasn’t sure if they were closets or patient rooms or something else. He wasn’t desperate enough to check just yet. Most occupied rooms had a sheet of paper with a name written on it hanging outside of them. He turned a corner and was about to restart his search when he finally saw the name he was looking for. 

The door was closed. It was too risky to barge in and he didn’t want to get kicked out. He took note of the room number and walked back down the hall. Just knowing how many steps away he was from Cas was an improvement. 

He walked back through the doors and immediately locked eyes with a very disgruntled looking Bobby. 

He ran a hand over his beard and patted the seat next to him.

“I’m not sorry,” whispered Dean, sitting down. “I waited as long as I could.”

“You should have told me you were heading out,” said Bobby. “Thank God your car is so damn loud, otherwise I wouldn’t have known you were gone.” 

“I found his room.” 

“Good for you.” 

“That counts for something, doesn’t it?” 

Bobby raised an eyebrow. “Did anyone see you?” 

“No,” answered Dean. 

“Did you remember to cover the scratches on your hands?”

Dean huffed. His hands were exposed and it was obvious he’d forgotten about the marks.

“That’s what I thought.” He handed a small black bag to Dean. “Go in the bathroom. Do the best you can to cover them up. I’m going to get you some water and a God damn granola bar.” 

Begrudgingly, he did as he was told. His cover-up skills weren’t as good as Rufus’, but his hands looked convincing enough. True to his word, Bobby was waiting for him with a bottle of water and a snack. He made Dean eat and drink all while maintaining an expression very close to pouting.

They sat together in silence. Dean was sure there was a way around the bullshit, but he hadn’t figured it out yet.

Suddenly the doors leading from the ICU to the waiting room swung open. Anna marched across the floor with her eyes on Dean and Bobby.

“Walk with me,” she said. She didn’t bother stopping to see if they followed. She led them down a long hallway and two flights of stairs to the main level of the hospital. She finally stopped just outside of the gift shop.

“Is he ok?” asked Dean. 

“No,” she answered. “He won’t talk to anyone. Mike and Zach I understand, but me?” She glared at him.

“Let me guess,” said Dean, “you told him I wasn’t allowed to see him and he’s pissed because you’re being an asshole.” 

“No,” she spat. “I told him I didn’t know where you were and he sent me to look for you.” 

“What?”

“He doesn’t even know Dean’s here?” asked Bobby. 

“I told him I couldn’t find you and he didn’t believe me,” she answered, arms crossed over her chest. 

“You mother fucker,” growled Dean.

“Save it,” she said. “I already figured out I screwed up that’s why I’m here confessing.”

“This better end with you taking me to see him,” said Dean.

“I can get you in tonight.” 

“Why not now?” asked Bobby.

“Our brothers are against you going anywhere near him. Mike is still in the room. He and Cas are trying to out silence-treatment each other. He’ll wear himself out by tonight and go back to the hotel.”

“How long do I have to wait?” asked Dean.

“Come back at nine. Zach is gone for the day. He and Mike won’t come back until after lunch tomorrow.”

Dean looked at his watch. Nine o’clock was an eternity away.

“Look,” said Anna, “I’m sorry. I fucked up. I get it. I’ll fix this, I swear, but this is the best I can do for now.”

“Fine,” said Dean. “I’ll take what I can get.”


	34. Cas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MOAR :D

Waiting was akin to torture, but Dean reminded himself Cas was waiting at the other end. Anna told them to stay away from the waiting room. She’d meet him and Bobby on the first floor again. Sam showed up just after 7 p.m. and that took the edge off just enough to keep Dean sane.

He’d packed an overnight bag, just in case. If he got the opportunity to stay, he wasn’t going to miss it. He adjusted the backpack he had slung over his shoulder. 

When 9 p.m. finally came around, Dean was bouncing on the balls of his feet just to keep his adrenaline at bay. Anna was one minute late. He saw her walking swiftly down the hall and almost sprinted to meet her. 

“I don’t need to take all three of you, do I?” she asked.

“We’re all going upstairs, but I’m the only one who needs to see him,” answered Dean. 

She eyed the group. “You guys really care about him.” 

“We do,” said Dean. “I’m not another Balthazar.” 

They followed her back to the waiting room. It was after visiting hours and the doors were locked. Anna didn’t have any trouble getting back in. She nodded to the woman at the front desk and the woman hit a button to open the doors. Dean wondered if Anna had already lifted her ban on him. Maybe he’d be able to see Cas again without needing her permission.

He wasn’t supposed to know which room was Cas’, but Anna was walking too slowly. Dean didn’t remember passing her, but suddenly he was opening Cas’ door and Anna was behind him.

Cas was propped up with pillows in his bed. His eyes were closed. He was on his back scowling at the ceiling. He had an oxygen tube in his nose and an IV in his arm.

Dean set his backpack on the floor and approached quietly. His hands were shaking, but for once fear wasn’t the cause. Cas was too pale and too small. Dean brushed a lock of hair from his forehead.

His eyes snapped open and he was suddenly moving too quickly. “Dean,” he said, pushing himself up.

“Don’t get up,” said Dean. “You’re going to hurt yourself.” He sat on the edge of the bed. As soon as he was within grabbing distance, Cas took hold of him and pulled him into his arms.

“I’m so sorry," said Cas. "He came in through the back of the house. Are you hurt? What happened?”

“It’s ok,” murmured Dean. “I’m ok. He’s dead. You’re alive. I couldn’t be happier.” 

Cas pushed him up. Still gripping his shirt, he looked over Dean’s body.

“I’m fine,” said Dean. “Just a few bumps and bruises.” He cupped his hand against Cas’ cheek. “He’s gone.” 

“Zachariah and Michael are trying to move me to a hospital closer to home,” said Cas. “I thought I might not—” His voice cracked and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. “I knew you were here. You have a very helpful friend.”

“Who?” asked Dean. 

“A medical student,” answered Cas. “She was watching you and telling me what you were doing. She said she spoke to you.” 

“She did,” answered Dean. “She was the only reason I knew you were all right.”

Cas pulled him down again. Dean kissed every inch of skin he could find until he got to Cas’ lips. They sealed themselves together and Dean consumed every detail. Cas was still strong. His lips were a little chapped, but soft. He smelled the same, tasted the same. He was all right. Two gunshot wounds were not enough to break him.

When they parted, Cas tangled his fingers in Dean’s hair and kept their foreheads pressed together. “I’m never speaking to my family again,” he muttered. “I’m just lucky my mother didn’t show up. Her health is failing; I suppose I should be grateful.”

“You can hate the rest of them,” said Dean, “but you might have to forgive Anna. She’s the one who got me in here.” He glanced out of the corner of his eye and realized she wasn’t in the room. The door was closed and they were alone.

“She’s also the reason you weren’t allowed to see me in the first place." 

“That’s true,” said Dean, “and I’d love to keep hating her, but she was just looking out for you. She thought she was doing the right thing.”

“She was very wrong,” said Cas. “I’m sure I’ll eventually forgive her, but it’s not going to happen anytime soon.”

Dean leaned in for another kiss. It seemed like they’d been apart for weeks. He sighed. “I killed him,” he whispered. 

“Good,” said Cas. “I hope he suffered.”

“Does your family know what happened?” 

“No,” answered Cas. “It’s driving them crazy and that is no less than they deserve.” 

There was a knock at the door. Dean looked up and Cas glared at the interruption. 

Anna entered with her head slightly hung. “I won’t be spending the night tonight,” she said. “The chair in the corner is open, if Dean wants to use it. They can also bring in a cot.”

“I’ll take the chair,” said Dean. He turned to Cas. “I can take the chair, right? You’re ok with me staying?” 

“Of course, but aren’t you exhausted? I heard you didn’t get much sleep.” 

“I won’t sleep if I go home. Honestly, I probably won’t go home.”

“Then stay,” said Cas. “But you have to promise to rest.”

Anna cleared her throat.

Cas finally looked at her. “You’re dismissed,” he said.

“Thank you,” said Dean. 

Cas huffed.

Anna nodded and backed out of the room. She closed the door behind her. 

“You have to forgive her eventually,” said Dean. “I’d be just as overprotective if Sam was in the hospital.”

“She knows how I feel about you,” said Cas. “She’s called me every other day since that fight we had to see how things were going. She knows how much I love you.” He frowned. “I should probably tell you, I called her that night you left. She came over and commiserated with me, but we’ve seen each other since then and I’ve told her I love you. She’s even said I seem happier than I’ve ever been.”

Dean must have made a face, because Cas’ eyes locked on him and began scanning.

“What?” asked Cas. “Something I should know?”

“Kind of,” answered Dean. Cas was honest; he should probably fess-up too. “I, uh, I kind of snuck back to your house that night. After the drawer-war, I went back and saw someone else was there.” 

Cas put a hand over his face and groaned. 

“I might have spied on you guys a little bit.”

“How much did you hear?” he asked. 

“You said you loved me,” answered Dean. “Anna was trying to explain that I was broken. She was right, by the way. I’m still pretty broken.”

“Dean, no.”

“It’s ok,” he said. “I told Ellen about it. She set me straight. I talked to her the day I went back to see you.”

“You’re not broken.”

“Everybody’s a little broken.”

“So you already knew a little bit about Balthazar?” 

“Yeah,” answered Dean. “Sorry, I probably should have told you sooner.” 

“It’s all right. But you should know since then, I’ve had many conversations with Anna about you. She wanted to meet you.”

“Well, she’s met me now.”

“This really isn’t how I imagined it going.” Cas ran his thumb over Dean’s cheek. “You must be exhausted.”

“Relieved is more like it,” he said.

“You know you don’t have to stay,” said Cas.

Dean snorted. “Yeah, I’ll just head on back home and drive Bobby and Sam crazy. I’m sure they’d love that.”

“Do you want to go home and pack some things to stay?” 

“I came prepared,” said Dean. “This ain’t my first rodeo.”

Cas examined the bed. “You don’t have to sleep in the chair. There’s room for both of us. I can move over. I don’t need to sleep in the middle.” 

“Dude, no. You need to be comfortable and there’s no way in Hell I’m going to risk rolling over on you or something.”

Cas snorted. “I’m fine,” he said. “I could probably go home tonight. They’re just coddling me at this point to make sure the hospital doesn’t get sued.”

“You’ve been shot, you moron. Nobody is coddling you. I’ll move the chair right beside you and you can get comfortable and relax.” 

Cas rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “But I really am all right. I can stand and walk around. I’m not even in pain.”

“That’s because you’re all doped up.” Dean kissed his forehead and went to reposition the chair.

He sat sideways in the chair with his chin propped on the bed looking up. Cas wiggled around until they were closer to eye level. Dean had one arm stretched out with his hand holding Cas’. 

Cas frowned and looked down where his thumb was rubbing against Dean’s skin. “What happened to you?” he asked. He brought Dean’s hand up closer to his face and began wiping away the tan makeup.

Dean knew pride was not the right emotion to feel when thinking back to murder, but that didn’t stop the emotion from swelling in his chest. Grinning, he pulled his hand away and picked at the latex, then did the same to his other hand. He held them both up for Castiel to inspect. 

“What is this?” he asked. 

“I strangled the shit out of that bastard,” whispered Dean. “Watched his eyes roll back in his head and everything.” 

“Oh my God,” breathed Cas. 

“He shouldn’t have shot you,” said Dean. “I mean, I really wanted to kill him anyway, but he fucked up big time when he messed with you.”

Cas wasn’t nearly as amused as Dean. “What about the police,” he hissed. “Have you been questioned? Did they find his body?”

He shrugged. “Bobby said he took care of it. I’m not so sure he’s actually retired. And, it turns out Rufus is FBI, or at least he claims to be.”

He looked back at Dean’s hands. He frowned, then took hold of them again. “I’m so sorry. I thought I could hold him off.”

“What happened?” asked Dean. “I called Bobby then heard the gun go off.”

“He was already in the house when I went to lock up,” said Cas. “The back door was open. When I went to check the bedroom, he was waiting for me. We could hear you talking. I think he wanted to wait to fire the gun until you got off the phone. He didn’t want anyone else to hear it.” He sighed and tugged on Dean’s hands. “Just come up here for a little while. It will be another hour before someone comes in to check on me.” 

“I don’t think your doct—”

“I’m my doctor,” said Cas. “I approve. Come up here.”

Dean kicked off his shoes and Cas moved over to make room. It was a tight fit with Cas on his back and Dean curled around him on his side, but for whatever reason, as soon as they were pressed together Dean felt them both relax.

“I thought I could take him,” said Cas. “I hit him a few times, but as it turns out my hand-to-hand combat skills are out-matched by ranged weaponry.” He sighed again. “He kept telling me he was going to kill you.”

“Yeah, well lucky for us I have a shit ton of pent-up aggression.”

“How did you get the gun away from him?”

“I honestly don’t remember,” answered Dean. “He shot you that second time and I kind of blacked out. Next thing I knew he was clawing the shit out of me trying to breathe. I shot him in the face after he passed out. You know, just in case.”

“No one can say you weren’t thorough,” said Cas. 

“Bobby showed up just before the police. He had his badge ready and everything,” said Dean. “I’m a lucky son of a bitch.” 

“I’m so glad you’re all right. It was driving me crazy not knowing what happened.” Cas closed his eyes. “The last thing I saw was him on top of you.”

Dean carefully draped his arm over Cas’ chest. “He didn’t hurt me,” he said. “I hulked-out big time. I hope that fucker rots in Hell.”

Cas wriggled closer. He moved his arm so that Dean’s head was partially resting on his chest.

“We’re safe now,” said Dean. “Nothing in the world can keep us apart – not even your rich-bitch family.” 

Cas laughed softly and hummed in agreement. His breathing slowly evened out. Dean stayed silent and let him drift off to sleep. Dean waited for a while to make sure he was comfortable, then he slipped out of bed and curled up in the chair. 

He snapped a picture of Cas and sent it to Bobby and Sam to let them know he was staying and everything was right in the world again. He fell asleep listening to Cas’ steady breathing.


	35. The Shooter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I legit thought I posted this chapter already.

Dean woke up first and spent the first part of the morning watching Cas sleep until the nurse came in to check on him. Cas muttered to himself as he blinked his eyes open, but his mood instantly improved when he saw Dean. 

The nurse buzzed around the room, taking notes on her chart and updating any changes. “Your vitals are much better today,” she said. “I think we can move you out of the ICU this afternoon.” 

“Can I go home?” asked Cas.

The nurse seemed startled. She stared at him for a moment or two and glanced at Dean. “Oh,” she said, “you’re talking. That’s great!” 

“I am,” confirmed Cas. 

She cleared her throat. “You shouldn’t leave yet. We’d like to keep you for 24 to 48 hours.” 

Cas sighed. “I suppose that’s fair.” 

“Could I persuade you to eat something?” she asked. 

“Yes,” he answered. 

She beamed. “Wonderful. You really are doing so much better. I can’t believe how much you’ve improved.” 

Dean raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend. 

The nurse handed Cas a small menu. “I can bring breakfast up for both of you,” she said. “Do you see anything you’d like?” 

Dean’s stomach growled. 

“What do you want?” asked Cas, showing him the menu.

“I’ll get whatever you get,” he answered. “All food sounds good right now.” 

Cas requested some mixed berry oatmeal something or other and orange juice. The nurse left and Dean moved from his chair to perch on the side of Cas’ bed. 

“So,” he said, “you took a vow of silence and went on a hunger strike. In your professional medical opinion, was that such a good idea?” 

“I was angry,” answered Cas. “But you heard her, I’m doing much better.” 

“You made yourself sicker.” 

“My family made me sicker. They’re determined to take me back home.” 

“Anna won’t let them,” said Dean. “Don’t get me wrong, at first I thought she sucked, but now I’m pretty sure she was just worried about you.” 

“I can’t believe she called for backup,” muttered Cas. “And I can’t believe they actually came. Both of them. It’s been years since we were all in a room together.” He huffed and threw the covers off. 

“Going somewhere?”

“The bathroom,” answered Cas. “Don’t get up, I don’t need help.” 

Dean had never seen Cas so grouchy. He was prickly and indignant and adorable. Dean crossed to the other side of the bed and lowered the railing. 

“I can do this on my own,” said Cas. “Really, you don’t need to help.” 

“You’re a terrible patient,” said Dean. “I’m surprised they’re willing to keep you here.”

Cas swung his legs over the side of the bed and Dean untangled his IV tube. He helped Cas stand so he wouldn’t put pressure on his wounds. Once he was in Dean’s arms he leaned forward and took a deep breath. 

“I should probably wash up before I get distracted,” said Cas.

“Do you need help?” 

“No. I’m perfectly capable.” He paused. “But thank you for offering.” 

Despite his protests Dean helped him walk to the bathroom and stood guard by the door just in case. They spent the rest of the morning basking in the relief of each other’s presence until Anna came back.

“The guys are on their way over,” she said. “They probably won’t stay long.”

Dean nodded. “I’ll head out for a while and come back when they’re gone. Sam and Bobby might want to see you,” he said to Cas. “If you’re up for it.” 

“I am,” he said. “I am not ‘up’ for seeing my brothers.” He pressed the call button by his bed.

“Don’t do it,” warned Anna. “If you do what I think you’re about to do, they’re going to be pissed.”

His nurse entered. “Everything all right?” she asked.

“I have unwelcome family members attempting to visit me today,” answered Cas. “I’d like to block them.”

The nurse glanced at Dean and Anna.

“These two can stay,” clarified Cas. “My brothers are the people I want to block. There are two men coming to visit, but they are allowed. I can write the names down for you.” 

“All right,” said the nurse. She produced a pen and a slip of paper. 

“They’re not going to like that,” said Anna. 

“Frankly,” said Cas, “I don’t give a shit.” He wrote his brothers’ names and a woman’s name on the sheet then circled them and added _These are my older brothers and my mother. Please block. Do not allow visitation under any circumstances including, but not limited to, my death. Everyone else is allowed to visit._

“Dude,” said Dean. “That’s a little extreme.” 

He handed the pad back to the nurse. 

“You can always change your mind,” she said. 

“I won’t,” said Cas. “But thank you.” 

The nurse glanced at them again. “Everything else ok? Are you feeling all right?” 

“Honestly,” answered Cas, “I feel fantastic.”

She smiled and nodded, then left the room.

“I can’t believe you did that,” said Anna. “They’re going to cut you off. Mom’s going to write you out of her will. Dad left the trust to her. You won’t get anything.”

“I don’t want it,” said Cas. 

“You’re uninsured, you idiot,” said Anna. “How are you going to pay your medical bills? What about rent and utilities and food? You’re unemployed. What about trying to get your license back? I thought you wanted to be a doctor again.” 

“Well, fuck it,” said Cas. “I’ve got enough money for now. I knew I’d cut ties with them one day. I took precautions. I have money saved. Today just happens to be the day I’m brave enough to actually do it.”

“I hope this isn’t because of me,” said Dean.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Cas. “Not every stupid thing I do is because of you.” He took a deep breath and a slow, toothy grin spread across his face. “I feel strangely liberated.” He laughed. “Had I known it would feel this good, I would have written them off years ago.”

“I guess I should be glad I’m not on that list,” said Anna. 

“I’m still mad at you,” said Cas.

“What about your rich guy perks?” asked Dean.

“Again,” he said, “fuck it.” He nodded to himself. “It’s what Gabriel would have done.”

Dean squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek. “I wonder where you’re going to live now,” he mused. “It’s a shame you don’t have a charming boyfriend to move in with.” 

“It is a shame,” said Cas. “But I have a regular boyfriend. I suppose he’ll have to do.” 

“Man,” said Anna, “I was so sure I was going to hate you.”

“Gee thanks,” said Dean.

She rolled her eyes. A phone range somewhere in the room. Anna retrieved it from her pocket. “Guess who,” she muttered. “I’ll take this outside.” She answered the phone and headed out the door. 

“I should apologize in advance,” said Cas. “They’re going to blame you.”

“I don’t care if you don’t care,” said Dean. “I’m not a fan of Michael and it doesn’t sound like Zachariah is any better. I’m kind of surprised your mom hasn’t come to see you.”

“Mother doesn’t travel unless it’s an emergency.” 

“You were shot. Twice.”

“But I recovered. Besides, she’d have to take her jet and she doesn’t like paying for fuel and a pilot unless she absolutely has to.”

“She has a jet?” 

“She leases a jet. My father always said leasing was a better investment, especially with planes.”

“You gave up private jet money?”

Cas nodded. “I guess I did.”

Dean sat back in the chair. “Damn. You sure you don’t want to reconsider?”

“Positive.”

Anna came back into the room. “I’m supposed to be in here ‘talking some sense’ into you,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’m just going to pretend I tried.” She nodded to Dean. “They’re _really_ not happy about you being here.”

“The feeling is mutual,” said Dean.

“Cas," she said, "I think they were trying to get you to come back to work for the family. I guess they saw this as their opportunity.”

“Obviously,” said Cas. “You didn’t think they came to see me because they cared, did you?”

Anna bit her lip. “I guess I hoped that was the reason.” 

Dean’s phone buzzed and he checked it. “Sam and Bobby are heading over,” he said, reading the message. 

“Your family?” asked Anna.

“My little brother and my uncle,” answered Dean.

“I’m sorry I made such a big deal about you guys visiting,” said Anna. “I didn’t realize how much my brother meant to you.” 

“In spite of the fact that I’ve specifically told you how kind and welcoming they are,” said Cas. “You know we love each other. You know how much his family cares and you know how much I care about them.”

“How many times can I say I’m sorry?” she asked.

Dean leaned into Cas. “Hey, Baby,” he said, “maybe cut her some slack. I’m not mad at her. Sam and Bobby probably aren’t mad. She thought you were dying and that it was my fault.”

“Don’t use pet names to mitigate my anger,” said Cas.

“I would have been just as crazy if it was Sam in the hospital and some chick I’d never met was the reason he got shot.”

“You are _not_ the reason that bastard shot me.” 

“You know the shooter?” asked Anna. 

Cas snapped his mouth shut and Dean realized he had no idea how much Anna knew.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What exactly happened to you?”

Dean looked to Cas, who seemed just as unsure as he was. 

“You said it wasn’t drug-related,” said Anna, eyeing her brother. 

Dean needed to talk to Cas alone so they could get their story straight, but Anna clearly wasn’t going to let that happen. Dean decided to sacrifice subtly for the sake of coordination. He leaned in and whispered to Cas. 

“Does she know about the porn thing?” he asked. “You can just say yes or no.” 

“No,” muttered Cas. 

“Does she know anything about Alastair?” 

Cas tugged on his shirt collar and whispered back. “I told her I sold you some weed and there was someone else with us who became aggressive. I admitted to pulling out my gun to scare him away, but I told her I didn’t fire it. I also told her your father was homophobic and abandoned you, but that’s it. She doesn't know the shooter was really Alastair from the fake drug deal.”

Dean let his head slump to rest on Cas’ shoulder. He wasn’t ready to explain his stupid life to someone again, though part of him was relieved Anna didn’t know how deeply fractured he was.

“Clearly,” said Anna, “there's a story here. Why can't I know?”

“We should wait until Bobby gets here,” muttered Dean. “He’s got the official story.”

“What official story?” asked Anna. " _Why_ is there an official story?"

“My uncle works for the CIA, or at least I think he does. He says he’s retired, but at this point I’m not sure what he actually does and doesn’t do.”

“Are you two in legal trouble?” asked Anna.

Dean looked up at Cas, whose eyes were wide. Cas shook his head ever so slightly. 

“Will Bobby tell me what happened?” asked Anna. 

Dean lowered his voice again. “We should at least tell her how we really met. I’ll do it if you want me too. You had to tell my family, so I’ll tell yours.” 

Cas ran a hand over his face. “Oh my God,” he muttered.

“Somebody has to tell me something,” said Anna. 

“I wasn’t actually selling to Dean when we met,” said Cas. “We were, um—how can I put this delicately.” 

“Just say it,” said Dean. “Sam handled it well.”

“I was sort of an actor,” said Cas.

“In porn,” finished Dean.

“Good lord,” muttered Anna. “Cas, porn? Really?” 

“Don’t judge,” said Dean. “I did it, too. We were supposed to do a scene together but Cas got replaced for being too nice.”

Anna opened her mouth, but Dean help up a finger.

“Let me finish,” he said. “I need to say it while I’m on a roll. The guy who replaced him was a major asshole. He, uh, he had an assistant, I guess. They kind of tied me up and things got out of hand.”

Cas put his arm around Dean and leaned into him.

“I’ll spare you the details,” he continued. “Long story short, Cas kicked down the door, fired off a few warning shots and scared them off. He, uh, he saved me.” Dean swallowed hard. 

Anna had her hand over her mouth.

“He saved me a couple of times,” said Dean. “My dad had a pretty strict ‘women only’ rule. He found out I’d done stuff with guys, kicked me out, I was homeless. I’d also stolen some of the porn guys’ money—”

“I took it,” interrupted Cas. “It was rightfully yours.” 

“Fine, _we_ stole it. Porn guys showed up at Cas’ house to find it, but I’d gone and taken the money with me. To give back,” he added quickly. “There was this whole ultimatum thing. Man this story sucks.” He sighed. 

Anna looked horrified.

Dean took a deep breath. He did his best to summarize the rest of the story up to John's death. He wasn't sure if it made sense. He wasn't sure it made sense the first time they tried to tell it. "It's a lot," he finished. "A lot of shit happened.” 

“I’m so sorry,” murmured Anna. “I didn’t know.”

Dean pushed his hair away from his forehead and realized he was sweating. Cas squeezed him. 

“The man who shot you,” began Anna, “was he—was he the same one?” 

“I'm not sure,” answered Cas quickly.

Dean didn’t correct him. They both knew better than to say something that might contradict Bobby’s story and Dean was having trouble remembering what he couldn’t and couldn’t say. Though it was fair for her to assume, by now, Alastair was the shooter. 

“It all happened so fast,” said Dean. “My uncle knows what happened. He can tell you.” 

Anna raised her eyebrow. “All right,” she said. “I guess I’ll just wait here for Uncle Bobby.” She grabbed a folding chair from a hanger behind the door and settled at the foot of the bed. 

Cas didn’t seem to trust himself to say anything without saying too much, so he stayed quiet. Dean decided that was the safest tactic so the three of them sat in silence until company arrived.


	36. Getting Better

“You _killed_ him?” asked Anna. 

“He didn’t kill him,” said Bobby. “The gun went off when they fell.”

“But he’s dead?” asked Anna.

“Yeah,” answered Dean. “He’s way dead.”                                                                                                    

“Good,” she said. “And you’re sure it’s the same guy that attacked you before?” 

“Positive,” answered Dean. 

Bobby and Sam had arrived just in time to stop Anna from continuing to pressure Cas and Dean for details. Dean told Bobby that Anna knew most of the story and everyone kept quiet while Bobby, once again, gave the official explanation. 

“Was he trying to rob you guys?” asked Anna. “Did he know Dean was there?” 

“We don’t know what he was doing,” answered Dean.

“We think he was after Cas,” answered Bobby, “but there’s no real way to tell for sure at this point. You all don’t need to worry about anything though. It’s been taken care of and Cas and Dean are safe.” 

Anna stared ahead at her brother. She sighed heavily, apparently still processing the story. “What about the others?” she asked after a moment. “Weren’t their other people from the porn shoot?”

Dean cringed at the word “porn” and realized he hadn’t watched anything erotic since the incident. Cas, seemingly always tuned into Dean’s emotions, leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder. 

“I checked on them,” answered Bobby. “Their group was busted on other charges. Alastair was the only one missing. Everybody’s accounted for now.” 

“How long will the others be in jail?” asked Anna. 

“A long ass time,” answered Bobby. He cleared his throat. “I guarantee you they’re not going to bother anybody ever again.” 

“If you don’t mind,” said Cas, “I’d like to take a walk with Dean. I’ve been in bed too long.” 

“Do you want us to stay here?” asked Sam. “We can leave if you want. We know you’re tired.” 

“No,” answered Cas. “I’d like you all to stay. We’ll be back in a few minutes. I just need to stretch.” 

Dean went to help Cas out of bed and this time Cas actually let him. He leaned heavily on Dean as they made their way out into the hall. 

“You all right?” asked Dean, keeping his voice down.

“Yes,” he answered. “I thought you might like a break.” He straightened up, supporting most of his own weight once they were several feet away from his room.

Dean kissed his cheek. It didn’t occur to him to be insecure until afterwards. He realized he didn’t care. “I’m ok,” said Dean, smiling. “If you’re ok, I’m ok.”

* * *

Cas went home after spending four days in the hospital. He didn’t go back to his house and, once again, at Bobby’s insistence, Dean’s family was under one roof. He started making meals for Cas then quickly fell into the habit of cooking for the household. The routine became something comfortable. Dean looked forward to waking up early to make breakfast. Cas usually got up with him to make coffee and Sam usually took care of dishes before leaving to go to class. Dean would make lunches for everyone, make sure Cas was comfortable, then kiss him goodbye and head off to work with Bobby. In the evening, he’d make dinner and maybe have time to work on his next project car, then fall asleep beside Cas.

Anna visited about once a week. During her first visit, she said their brothers had blocked Castiel’s access to the family fortune. Her second visit, she said their mother was writing him out of her will. During her third visit, she informed Cas that her piece of the fortune was still secure and handed him a check for $50,000. She promised him, no matter what, he would get half of anything she received from their family and no one would know about it.

Dean took Cas on a walk through Bobby’s property one evening. He stopped at an open spot near the edge and pointed to the neighboring yard. “What do you think of that house?” he asked. 

“It’s nice,” answered Cas. He furrowed his brow and looked up at Dean. “Why?”

“If I bought it, would you live there with me?” 

“Is this a hypothetical question or are we actually talking about moving in together?”

Dean pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “These open the front door,” he answered. “Bobby worked out a plan for me and Sam to have some land an a place of our own. The land we’re standing on now is mine and that,” he pointed across the field to a small tree, “is where Sam’s land begins.”

Cas looked to the tree, then down at the grass, then back to Dean. 

“The house is mine if I want it,” said Dean. “Sam wants me to buy it – says we should put down roots somewhere. This place is pretty much our home and I think I’d like to keep it that way.” 

Cas had that deep crease between his brows that meant he was still processing. 

“If the town has too many bad memories for you, I get it. We can figure something else out. We can rent for a while or something, but I want to stay close to Sam and Bobby and I want to live with you.” 

“Yes,” said Cas. 

“Yes to moving in?” asked Dean. “You can say no, it’s ok. I get that it’s a lot of pressure, but I had to say something or else Sam was going to blab. I mean, he’s going to Stanford for his law degree, but he keeps saying this is home and this is where he expects us all to end up.”

Cas silenced him with a kiss. “Yes,” he said again. “Buy it. How much do you need? I can pay half.” 

Dean bit his lip, but Cas didn’t give him a chance to even process his hesitation. 

“If you want to own it outright, I understand,” he said. “This is a place for you and Sam, not you and me. Moving in together is one thing but buying a house together is another. This is something married people do and we haven’t even discussed that idea. I want to give you money though. I can pay rent, cover half the mortgage – something.” 

Dean nodded. 

“You want to take it slow,” said Cas. “That’s all right. I understand. We have to be practical. If something happens and we’re not together anymore, co-owning a home would just complicate things.” 

Dean was thinking all of those things; worst-case scenario preparation was in his DNA. His worst-case scenario was always somehow, for whatever reason, ending up alone without his family. It wasn’t because he couldn’t stand the thought of being alone. He loved them. He couldn’t stand the thought of not loving them, of not loving Cas. 

There would always be another leap to take with him. Dean would never stop falling for Cas. Marriage, children, retirement, death, and those were just the leaps he knew about. He was sure there’d be others. 

He took Cas’ hand. “My mom used to say she loved my dad through every season,” he said quietly. “She said, to know someone, you have to know them through all kinds of weather and she’d seen Dad through every storm she could imagine.”

“Death changes people,” said Cas. “I’m sure she never thought he’d hurt you.” 

“What if,” said Dean, “you love me through all the seasons, and I change.” 

“You will change,” said Cas. “I’m sure you’ll change, I’ll change too. It’s a risk, but it’s one we took when we fell in love.”

Dean nodded, biting back the question on the tip of his tongue. He couldn’t imagine a world where he wouldn’t love Cas. Mary couldn’t imagine a world where John would hurt their children. 

He toyed with the keys in his hand. “I want to live with you,” he said. “I don’t know what comes next, but I know I want to go through it with you.”

Cas’ lip twitched with the little half smile that meant he was pleased with himself. “Can I see inside?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you our room.”

“You’ve already picked it out?”

“Yeah,” answered Dean. “I picked the one with the best view. You’ll see.” He took Cas’ hand and led him to the house. As they crossed the threshold, he imagined what it would be like to carry Cas in his arms and into their home.

Dean would carry him because Cas wouldn’t care but Dean liked tradition. They’d be exhausted from the wedding and ready for the honeymoon, but they’d go home first. They’d crack open the good scotch and laugh because one of them still had cake on his face. 

Dean was going to marry him. They were going to be together forever. 

Cas wandered through the empty home, checking light switches and opening and closing closets and cabinets. “I like it,” he said. “The kitchen is massive.”

Dean watched him walk from room to room inspecting the home. He couldn’t stop the grin blooming across his face. Of course he was going to marry Cas. They made sense together.

He crept up behind him and wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist. He took a deep breath and buried his face in Cas’ neck. He pressed his lips against soft skin and marveled for a moment at how much his life had changed.

Cas leaned back against him. “Are you going to show me our room?” he asked.

“Yeah,” answered Dean. “It’s upstairs.”

Dean led the way tugging Cas along behind him. Since the attack they were always connected in one form or another. They sat next to each other, stood shoulder-to-shoulder, held hands; they did whatever it took to remember they were together. 

He pushed the bedroom door open. There were no curtains on the windows and the white walls seemed blue in the moonlight. It came pretty damn close to matching the vision in Dean’s head. He bought a new bed and had the mattress on the floor with fresh sheets and a new bedspread. Beside it he’d placed a dozen red roses. Dean bit his lip and watched Cas for a reaction.

Cas tilted his head. “What’s the occasion?” 

“Alastair’s dead. You’re alive. We’re moving in together,” answered Dean. “Figured we should celebrate.” 

Cas grinned and pulled Dean to the mattress. Without warning he let himself fall and brought Dean tumbling down on top of him. They landed in a heap on top of the comforter. Cas rolled them over and sat straddling his lap. His eyes glittered like stars as he smiled down at Dean.

He grabbed Cas by the front of his shirt and pulled him into a deep kiss. It didn’t matter how long they stayed together. He was lucky to share any portion of his life with this man. He wrapped his arms around Cas’ neck and slowed the kiss. This was the best his life had ever been and if it was the best his life would ever be; he was more than willing to accept it. 

“You’re beautiful, Cas,” he whispered. Even in the darkness he knew Cas was blushing. 

“You’re beautiful, too,” he said. 

Dean bit his lip. “So,” he began, “hypothetically, how do you feel about getting hitched?” 

“You mean ‘getting hitched’ to you, right?”

“Yeah,” answered Dean. “Hypothetically.”

“Hypothetically, I’m very much in favor of the idea.”

“Good,” said Dean. “Me too. I never to be stuck in a waiting room again just because I’m not ‘family.’”

“With any luck I won’t get shot again and that won’t be an issue.” 

“You know what I mean.” He pulled Cas to his chest. “I almost lost you. Jesus, what if you’d died? What if I didn’t get to say goodbye?” 

“But I didn’t die and we’re together. Don’t dwell on what could have happened.” He placed his hand over Dean’s heart. “Stay with me,” he said. “We’re in your house, on our bed and we’re both fine.” 

“I’m a lucky son of a bitch,” said Dean. “I like to think I’m pretty well prepared for what life throws at me, but I swear I never saw you coming.” 

Cas started to speak but instead he hid his against Dean. “I’m lucky, too,” he said. 

Dean kissed his cheek. His lips drifted down to Castiel’s jaw and he sucked lightly at his skin. That was all the encouragement Cas needed. It was all he ever needed. He rolled his hips against Dean and tangled his fingers in his hair. Their lips locked in a deep and hungry kiss. 

Cas wedged his leg between Dean’s thighs and began rubbing his palm over his cock. Dean did his best to stay focused as he wrestled Cas free from his shirt. The next moments were a blur of zippers, shoes and fabric. Something about being with Cas in their room in their house created a frenzy in Dean. 

As soon as they were both naked Dean rolled Cas onto his back and slipped beneath the covers. He took Cas in his mouth all at once and heard him moan. Dean had one hand wrapped around the base of Cas’ cock and the other resting on Cas’ chest. Cas took Dean’s free hand in both of his and clung to it. 

Suddenly caught up in the rush, Dean released his cock and grabbed Cas’ wrist. He led Cas’ hand to the back of his head and left it there. He returned his attention to pumping and sucking and teasing. He hollowed his cheeks and dragged his lips over the pulsing member. Cas shivered and his nails scraped against Dean’s scalp. Dean moaned and sucked harder. 

Cas seemed to get the message. He clutched Dean’s hair, almost holding him in place. Dean relaxed his jaw but kept his lips tight. He gripped Cas’ hip and encouraged him to thrust. Cas was hesitant at first, clearly testing the boundaries, so Dean brought Cas’ other hand down to tangle in his hair.

He gave a shallow thrust, pushing himself into Dean’s mouth. Dean moaned again and began rubbing his thumbs into Cas’ thighs. 

He thrust again, deeper this time. Dean closed his eyes and relaxed completely, overwhelmed by the heat and the sounds coming from his partner. The next thrust came much faster then it came again, and again, and again until Cas was fucking into Dean’s throat. His legs trembled beneath Dean’s grip. His breathing was erratic. Then it suddenly stopped.

He pulled Dean from beneath the comforter and latched onto his mouth. It was like kissing fire. Cas’ cock was still wet with saliva and it slid so perfectly against Dean’s. Cas grabbed his ass, blunt nails digging into the muscles.

“Yes,” breathed Dean. He groped in the darkness for a box he’d tucked at the head of the mattress. He found it and brought it closer. Cas fumbled with him until one of them found the lube.

Cas took it from there. Still panting beneath Dean, he slipped a finger between Dean's cheeks and massaged his entrance. “Tell me,” hissed Cas, “if I do something you don’t like.” 

Too dazed to quip back, Dean just nodded. He wondered if sex with Cas would always take his breath away.

Cas slipped out from under him and encouraged Dean to prop up on all fours. Cas’ finger slipped inside of him and immediately went for his prostate. Dean’s elbows buckled and he found himself face down with his ass in the air. 

Cas used that to his advantage. He wrapped an arm around Dean’s waist and took his cock in his hand. Another finger slipped into him. Dean arched his back and clutched the pillow beneath him.

Soon Cas’ fingers were gone and something thick and hot pressed against his hole. Cas took hold of his hips. Dean braced himself as the other man pushed inside of him. He bit his lip hard and rocked back until his ass met Cas’ pelvis. 

Together they set a merciless pace. Cas nailed his prostate on every other thrust. Dean ended up flat against the mattress. Every time Cas pushed into him it forced his cock to rub against the mattress. Delirious, he began rutting against the fabric. His senses were overwhelmed by a blissful assault on his nerves. 

Above him, Cas pumped harder, faster and plunged deeper into his body. He was close and the more noises he made, the closer Dean tipped toward the edge. 

One last broken cry followed by rapid-fire thrusts and Dean was done. He came hard, spilling against his stomach and the bed. The intensity of his orgasm doubled as Cas pounded against his prostate, then finally shook and collapsed against his back.

It was almost a full minute before either of them could speak. Cas rolled off of him and onto his back. The comforter lay in a forgotten heap on the floor. They were too hot to need it right now anyway. 

“Was that all right?” panted Cas.

Dean had enough energy to turn his head and give him a grin and a thumbs up.

Cas nodded. “That was—different.” 

“Did you like it?” 

Cas nodded again quickly. “At this point it’s safe to assume I enjoy everything we do,” he said, “especially when we’re both nude.” 

“Good,” breathed Dean. “Want to clean up and rinse off?”

Cas groaned. “No,” he said.

“What if I told you we have a jacuzzi tub?”

“That would change my mind.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’ve got bubbles and other bath crap in there.” He pointed to the master bath. “I’ll clean up in here, you’re in charge of the tub.”

Cas sighed, but didn’t argue. He kissed Dean and left for the bathroom.

Ten minutes later they were both submerged in bubbles and warm water. They sat back to chest, Dean leaning against the back of the tub and Cas leaning against Dean. 

“You were right,” said Cas. “This was a very good idea.” 

“After this we can go back to bed and stay there until noon tomorrow.” 

“Or we could go for round two,” said Cas. 

“Seriously?” asked Dean. “Aren’t you exhausted? You’re still supposed to be taking it easy.” 

“I assure you,” he said, “I’m fine.” 

“We’ll play it by ear,” said Dean. He hugged Cas against his chest and kissed his shoulder. He’d do anything Cas wanted. He was defenseless against those blue eyes and soft, dark lashes. Cas could ask him for the Andromeda Galaxy in a snow globe and not only would Dean pilot the first intergalactic mission, he’d take up glass blowing to make sure the globe turned out just right. He belonged to Castiel and he was going to marry him.


	37. Say Yes

Dean was getting ready to leave the shop when an angry looking man stormed out of Bobby’s office and slammed the door behind him. The man cursed under his breath and walked away fuming. Dean hurried to investigate. He found Bobby sitting calmly at his desk looking a little smug.

“What was that about?” asked Dean. 

“What was what about?” asked Bobby.

“That guy. What happened?” 

“Nothing much. He’s with the local police—or state. I can’t remember. It doesn’t matter.” 

“Are we in trouble?” asked Dean. 

“Nah,” answered Bobby. “They’ve just got their shorts in a twist.” 

“Why?” 

Bobby sighed. “Seems they’re having trouble tracking down some evidence from a home invasion resulting in a death from a while back.” He cocked his eyebrow and looked up at Dean. “I guess there was some kind of clerical error. The intruder was never identified and police are still investigating, or trying to.”

Dean frowned. “Is that good or bad?” 

“It’s bad for them,” answered Bobby. “Someone must have misfiled something. The John Doe was _accidentally_ cremated and the carpet samples were _accidentally_ destroyed. They can’t find the gun he used and they’ve only got partial prints from the crime scene.”

“Did you—” 

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” said Bobby. “They lost the original coroner’s report. The only copy they’ve got is a mess of redactions. They don’t have the clearance to look at anything else. Shame their office is so unorganized.” 

Dean opened his mouth then closed it again. 

“If they are able to dig a little deeper,” said Bobby, “they’ll find out he was part of group that produced child pornography. The other people in the group are already in prison.” 

“Wait, is that true?” asked Dean. “Are we still talking about the same thing?” 

Bobby scratched his beard. “The evidence found with Crowley and Naomi suggested they were into some nasty stuff. After further investigation officers found a lot of disturbing images on their computers. Seems true to me.” 

“Yeah,” said Dean, “but did you frame th—”

“Seems true,” repeated Bobby. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. 

“Listen,” said Bobby, “you need to know two things. One, as long as I’m alive no one, I mean no one, is going to mess with my boys. You’re safe and I have the power to keep you safe.”

“What’s the second thing?” 

“I plan to live forever.” 

Dean huffed a laugh. “Guess that sums it up.” 

“Go home,” said Bobby. “Relax, enjoy the house. Sam’s staying on campus tonight and I’ve got plans. You and Cas are on your own.” 

“Thanks, Bobby,” he said. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

Dean left the shop and tried to forget about the policeman at the garage. He stopped by the pharmacy closest to home. Ellen recommended medication to help with his anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder. She said he had both, or maybe PTSD was a byproduct of anxiety, or maybe it was the other way around. He didn’t know and he didn’t particularly care. Ellen sent him to a doctor for his prescriptions. He was on a schedule now. He took a pill every night before bed and one milligram of xanax as needed. Both drugs came from the pharmacy instead of from Cas. 

He retrieved his prescriptions and set the bag beside him in the Impala. This was his first refill. He’d taken them for a month and, according to his doctor, he should feel small improvements. He knew he wasn’t taking miracle drugs. He knew this wasn’t a cure. That didn’t stop him from hoping. 

Generally speaking, things were better. His life was much better. Cas was better, Sam was better, even Bobby was better. When Dean and Cas finally finished moving into the house everyone seemed to relax, probably because, for once, their lives were settled. Dean at least felt grounded, but pills didn’t do that. He wasn’t sure what did that. Ellen said it was probably a result of him feeling safe again, of his defense mechanisms dropping their shield. 

He still couldn’t think about his father. Sometimes his dreams would replay the night he found him. Sometimes they’d replay Cas getting shot. Sometimes he’d wander through his old house and find Cas in the bathtub instead of John. Sometimes John would be waiting for him beside the Impala. Sometimes Sam was with him. Anytime John and Sam were in the same dream, John would shoot him. Sam would fall and Dean wouldn’t be able to stop the bleeding.

He told Ellen about his dreams, but no one else. In his opinion, his biggest improvement was that he didn’t let his problems spill out anymore. He was able to keep his trauma between him and Ellen. He was able to keep it in perspective, where it belonged. Sometimes (though it was happening less and less) he’d wake up at night, after a vivid nightmare, and find himself wrapped in Cas’ arms. 

Cas never asked him what he saw. He probably didn’t need to. He’d hold Dean close, kiss his cheek and remind him he was safe. At first, Dean felt guilty. He had everything else under control. Then he realized Cas had nightmares too.

One night he awoke to find Cas curled into himself on the opposite side of the bed. He’d thrown the covers off and sweat covered his face. Their room was cool and Cas’ skin was cool. He’d pulled Cas back to the middle of the bed and held him until he stopped shaking. Cas didn’t wake up; he never woke up. His breathing would eventually slow and his muscles would relax, but he never spoke or indicated he knew what was happening. They never talked about it, but Dean decided the next nightmare would be different. Since they’d moved into the new house, Cas’ dreams had become more frequent. 

He entered the house and found Cas glaring at his laptop on the couch. He was typing something and didn’t seem to notice he was being watched. 

Dean cleared his throat and Cas jumped. 

“Oh,” he said. “Hello, Dean.” 

“What are you working on?” he asked. He crossed the room and dropped next to his partner on the couch. 

“Job applications,” answered Cas. 

Dean looked over at the screen and raised an eyebrow. “You’re applying to a gas station?” 

“I could be a clerk.” 

“No.” Dean grabbed the laptop and began clicking through the tabs Cas had open. 

“It’s just a job,” he said. “It doesn’t really matter where I work.” 

“You have a medical degree,” said Dean. 

“And a bad reputation.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t have options.” He started closing out of the tabs Cas had open. “This is an application to be a line cook. You don’t even like cooking.” 

“But thanks to you, I’m much better at it than I used to be.” 

“No.” Dean shut the laptop. “There’s no rush and you don’t need to do something you’ll end up hating. We’ll be all right for a while. I’m making money. You can afford to wait for something that makes you happy.” 

“I don’t think anyone else will hire me.”

“Then you can just be my trophy husband.” Dean blushed. The word slipped out automatically. “What do you want for dinner?” he asked quickly. 

Cas grinned at him, but didn’t say anything. 

Dean blushed harder and hid his smile behind his hand. 

“How about pizza?” asked Cas. 

“I could go for pizza,” he answered. 

“Pizza and wine?” 

“Good enough.” 

“Good,” said Cas, still grinning. “I vote we relax tonight and drink a little too much.” 

“You trying to seduce me, Mr. Novak?” 

Cas tilted his head and frowned. “Not at the moment.” 

“I meant like in the movie. The Graduate? Dustin Hoffman?” 

“I haven’t seen it.” 

“Then I guess we know what we’re going to watch tonight.” 

Cas rolled his eyes and grabbed his cell phone. “Do you want the usual?” 

“Yeah,” answered Dean. He leaned against Cas while he placed their order. He was in his own home with his soon-to-be fiancé and they had a “usual” takeout order. 

Cas hung up and Dean kissed him. He moved his hand to Cas’ lap and began undoing the button on his jeans. “Thirty minutes or less, right?” asked Dean. 

Cas nodded.

“I bet I can deliver in ten minutes or less.”

“I don’t know, I think—” His sentence was lost as Dean lowered his head. 

* * *

Cas was the first to fall asleep that night. Dean stayed awake. He wasn’t sure if Cas would dream. He was still buzzed when they went to bed. He might sleep more soundly tonight. Dean waited. Cas was pillowed against his chest and so far, seemed calm. He had a pitch, a plan and a few suggestions he hoped would help Cas relax. 

A little after two in the morning, Dean realized he’d fallen asleep. He also realized Cas wasn’t resting against him anymore. Cas was across the bed, out of the covers with his back turned and curled in the fetal position. Dean sat up carefully and reached across the bed. He encouraged Cas to roll over and pulled him back toward the center of the mattress. As usual, he didn’t wake up. 

Dean settled down next to him and held him. He kissed his cheek and pushed Cas’ hair away from his forehead. “It’s ok,” he whispered. “You’re safe.”

Still asleep, Cas pressed himself closer. 

“It’s all right,” whispered Dean. “It’s just a dream.”

Cas let out a muffled cry against him. 

“It’s ok, Baby. You’re safe.” He took Cas’ hand and held it against his chest over his heart. “I need you to wake up.” He kissed his cheek again. “You’re having a bad dream, but it’s just a dream. Everything’s ok.” 

Cas jerked against him and blinked. He looked at Dean and took a few unsteady breaths. 

“It’s ok,” said Dean. 

Cas frowned and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s never happened before.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Cas shook his head. “It must have been the wine. It’s not a big deal. I just haven’t had a dream like that in a very long time.” 

Dean bit his lip, unsure of how to proceed. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Lately you’ve been a little um, weird I guess, when you sleep.”

Cas groaned. He pulled away from Dean and rolled onto his back. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s ok,” said Dean quickly. “It doesn’t bother me. I normally wouldn’t wake you up but it’s happened almost every night this week. I’m kind of worried about you.” 

“I’m fine,” muttered Cas. “Just embarrassed.” 

Dean wiggled closer to him and propped himself up on his elbow. “Tell me about it. You know I have nightmares. You know I understand.” 

“I am normally a very light sleeper,” said Cas, sighing. “Most nights I don’t dream at all. Actually, I should amend that. Before I started spending my nights with you, I didn’t dream much.”

Dean winced. “Am I a trigger or something?”

“No, not at all,” answered Cas. “I sleep more soundly with you and stay asleep longer, so I dream more often.” 

“But?” 

“There isn’t really a _but_ ,” he said. “Usually I have good dreams. Sometimes _very_ good dreams.” He glanced at Dean. “But, I used to dream about Gabriel when I was younger. I stopped sleeping for a while. Mother sent me in for a test and I got a prescription for something to help me fall asleep. I never used it. I threw the pills away and switched them with Tic Tacs.” He sighed again. “I dreamed about him again after you and I met.” 

Dean tugged him closer and Cas let him. They lay on their sides facing each other. “Sometimes I dream about Dad,” he said, “but usually the bad dreams about losing people I love.”

“I dream about Alastair,” said Cas. “He doesn’t always have a face, but I know it’s him. He doesn’t shoot me, but it doesn’t matter. I never get to you in time.” 

“Roll over,” said Dean.

“Why?” 

“You’re going to be the little spoon and I’m going to tell you some things.”

Cas eyed him, seeming a little skeptical. “All right.” He did as instructed.

Dean made sure they were tightly pressed together. He wrapped his arms around Cas and tilted his head so that he could speak quietly and directly into Cas’ ear. “First of all, Alastair is very, very dead. I murdered the shit out of that son of a bitch and Bobby had his body burned.”

“You’re not supposed to say you murdered him.” 

“Well I did, and I’m kind of proud of it. I should probably feel a little guilty for taking a life or something but I don’t. Head’s up, if I ever become a serial killer, this is probably the first red flag.” 

“Obviously I’d be your accomplice.”

Dean laughed and squeezed him. “Second of all, you’ve been through a lot of traumatic shit.”

“So have you.” 

“I know and I’m on medication. I’ve talked to Ellen about you and she thinks you could benefit from talking to someone, too.”

“Dean, your sessions are not supposed to be about my problems.” 

“I can’t help it. You’re my favorite subject,” he said. “You don’t smoke as much and I haven’t seen you take as many pills. I check your secret stash pretty regularly. Seems like you use something once or twice a week.”

“You’re spying on me?”

“Yeah. That’s not the point. Also, I’m sorry for spying, but only a little sorry.” 

“I suppose that’s fair. I spy on you as well.”

“I know. Sometimes Sam spies on you spying on me.” 

Cas huffed. “Winchesters.” 

“Point is you need to take care of yourself. I’m glad you’re sleeping better but I think Ellen would say you’ve been repressing some stuff. She tells me that a lot.”

Cas huffed again.

“You got shot. You almost died. People don’t usually walk away from that kind of thing without problems.” 

“People also don’t usually walk away from killing someone without problems.” 

Dean ignored him. “I’m going to wake you up from your nightmares from now on,” he said. “You like to be in charge of stuff and you like to know you have control of a situation. There’ve been two really fucked up events where you had no control and I think that’s what’s haunting you.” 

“You actually listen to Ellen when she talks, don’t you?”

“Yeah. She’s smart. I think you and I are similar in a lot of ways so whatever helps me might help you.”

“That’s thoughtful, but you don—” 

“You were completely powerless when Alastair attacked. He did that on purpose. That was his thing. He took people’s power, made them feel helpless. He did that to both of us.”

Cas was silent.

“You were helpless when Gabriel died, too,” said Dean. “You legitimately couldn’t do anything about that. Even if you’d been with him, you were too small to help or fight back.” 

“We spend a lot of time psychoanalyzing each other, don’t we?” 

“No one knows us better than we do.” 

“True.” 

“I’m going to take some control away from you for a while.” 

Cas flinched and turned to look back at him. “What does that mean?” 

“That came out a little more BDSM than I meant. Unless you’re into that.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“I’ll steer the ship for a while, you just relax.” 

“I need specifics. The ship metaphor isn’t helping.” 

Dean sighed. “You’re a doctor, Cas. I know, first hand, how good you are at helping people. I want you to do whatever it takes to get your license back. I’ve got our future as a couple under control. You need to focus on yourself.” 

“It’s a long process. I don’t—” 

“Whatever it takes,” said Dean. “If we need to pay somebody off, just tell me where to send the check. If we need to forge some documents, Bobby probably owns a printing press.” 

“I’m sure there’s a legal option,” said Cas. 

“Either way. And I don’t care how long it takes. Your job is to figure out how to get it done. No more gas station applications.”

Cas huffed.

“I’ve got you covered, Baby. You need to get your dream job back. The world needs people like you.” 

“I can’t do it,” he said quietly. “We have money now, but we’re going to need more eventually.” 

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” said Dean. “Besides, Bobby’s got my back.”

“Your family has already done so much.”

“I’ll worry about that.”

“It’s not fair to you.” 

“I’ve got my dream job,” said Dean. “It’s not glamorous, but I love it. I’ve got a boss who is biased as hell in my favor and a lot full of cars I fix and sell for a profit. I’m set. You need that too.” 

Cas scowled and pursed his lips. 

“I want you to be happy.” 

“I am happy.”

“The day we met you told me you’d always be a doctor.” 

Cas sat up and placed hand over his eyes. 

Dean didn’t let him get far. He sat up and quickly pulled Cas into his lap. “Why is it,” he began, “that every time I get upset your first reaction is physical contact, but when you get upset you pull away?” 

“I have no idea,” muttered Cas. 

“Do I need to take a hint and leave you alone? I don’t really want to, but I will if it will help.” 

“No,” said Cas. “It’s a kneejerk reaction. I’m sure it was something I developed when I was a child.” 

“So clinging to you like a barnacle is ok?”

“Yes, though I’m not sure ‘barnacle’ is the right analogy. Your hold is more like an anaconda.” 

Dean squeezed him. Cas laughed and uncovered his eyes. 

“The first time Dad kicked my ass he took me to the hospital,” said Dean. “I was pretty fucked up. I think the doctor was suspicious. Our story didn’t really add up. But he didn’t question us. If I’d had a doctor like you, I’m pretty sure my life would have been a lot different.” 

Cas leaned heavily against him, returning the embrace. 

“You can read people like a book,” said Dean. “You’re caring, smart and sincere. A guy like you needs to be front and center in the world. People like you change things.” 

“What if I can’t get my license back?” asked Cas. “What if it’s a waste of time?” 

“If there’s any chance at all of this working, it’s not a waste of time.” 

He shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“Say yes.” 

“I’ll think about it. There might be a job I enjoy just as much.” 

“Say yes, Cas.” 

“But—” 

“No buts.” 

Cas rubbed his eyes and let out a deep breath. “Yes,” he said quietly. 

Dean kissed his cheek. “There you go.” 

“I suppose it could work.” Cas sighed again. “I can’t express how much this means to me. You don’t have to give me a second chance at my life. That’s not your job.” 

“I’m an idiot for not thinking of this a long time ago.” Dean kissed him again. “You deserve so much. I’d give you the whole damn world if I could.”

Cas buried his face against Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean grinned. “You’re going to be a doctor again.”


	38. Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've made it to the end...Thanks for reading!

Anna and Sam stood on either side of him, both studying the ring in his hand. Dean shook his head and returned it to the man behind the counter. “It’s pretty,” he said, “but it doesn’t say Castiel.” 

Anna groaned. “You _have_ to pick something.” 

They’d been to eight different stores. The one they were currently investigating was full of antiques and Dean was holding out hope for something original. 

“I will,” said Dean. “When I find something I like, I’ll buy it.”

“Cas will like whatever you pick out,” she said. 

“That’s probably true,” said Sam. “I don’t think you can really go wrong.”

Dean huffed. “I don’t even know what stone to get.” 

“I thought you settled on a diamond,” said Sam. 

“What if it’s a blood diamond?” asked Dean. “Cas would hate that.”

“You’ve done too much research,” said Anna.

“What if the previous owner was a dick or something?” countered Dean. “Can’t diamonds be cursed? What if I get him something that’s bad luck?” 

“Curses aren’t real,” said Sam.

“And Cas isn’t terribly superstitious,” said Anna.

The man behind the counter smiled and took a step back. “I’ll give you another moment to discuss.”

“Everything’s really nice, but nothing is _right_ ,” said Dean. “Hell, I’m not even sure if I should go with gold or sliver.”

“You said silver originally,” said Anna. “Go with your gut.”

“My gut says it’s hard to get jewelry information from him without being obvious,” said Dean. “Hasn’t he ever said anything about what he likes? Did he have any of this crap when he was a kid?” He gestured around the store.

“No,” she answered. “He didn’t really like jewelry.” 

“But I’m sure he’ll like a ring,” said Sam quickly.

“Right,” said Anna. “He’ll like anything you get him.” 

The man behind the counter returned. He cleared his throat and set a new ring display on the counter. “Have you considered something less traditional?” he asked. 

Dean eyed the new rings. 

“These are all one of a kind,” said the man. 

Dean stopped. He carefully picked up a ring with a gold band and an ornate, almost vine-like engraving. The center stone was a dark blue sapphire and there was a small diamond on either side. It wasn’t a large ring like some of the others. The band was wide with just enough room to accommodate the stones and designs. 

“Cas would want an emerald,” said Anna. She pointed to a similar ring but Dean didn't pay it much attention.

He shook his head. “This one is perfect.”

Anna started to protest. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam quickly shake his head.

“It looks like him,” said Dean.

Sam cleared his throat. “It’s missing something,” he said. “I think you should consider the emerald.” 

“The sapphire is the part I really like.” 

“Maybe emeralds instead of diamonds?” said Sam. He pointed to the sides of the ring. “Then it would match your eyes and his eyes instead of just his.” 

Dean felt heat rise in his cheeks. He never meant to be as obvious as he was. Of course he liked it because it matched Cas’ eyes. He lowered the ring. “That’s really sappy, isn’t it,” he said.

“Honestly, you guys are already pretty sappy,” said Sam. 

Dean elbowed him. “I want to get him something nice but not corny.”

“He loves your eyes,” said Anna. “I vote emeralds.” She looked to the salesman. “Can we get a quote on what it would cost to replace the stones?” 

He nodded and retrieved a book from behind the counter. 

“Is it too small?” asked Dean. “Maybe I should go back to diamonds.” 

“No,” said Anna and Sam together.

Dean glanced at them. 

“That’s the ring,” said Sam. 

“Just replace the diamonds,” said Anna. 

“Emeralds would be pretty,” said Dean. “Right? That’s pretty isn’t it? Do I have bad taste?”

“No,” answered Sam. “Emeralds are pretty.” 

“I agree,” said Anna. 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” they said, again answering together. 

The man returned with a quote. He explained how much the ring would cost with changes, without changes and then showed him the resizing fee. “If you would like to change the stones and have the ring sized, I can have the order ready in roughly two weeks,” he said. 

Dean bit his lip. Even with the alterations the ring came in under budget. Then again, Sam and Anna agreed his budget was too high.

“Do it,” said Anna.

“It’s perfect,” said Sam. “One of a kind and you went straight for it. You haven’t liked any of them as much as you like this one.” 

“And you’re positive about the emeralds?” he asked.

“Yes.” This time the salesman answered with them as well. 

“Then I guess we’re doing this,” said Dean. 

* * *

Two weeks came and went. The ring was finished. Everything was ready. He wasn’t on a schedule, but he wanted to be mindful of the day he picked to pop the question. He’d already decided on a location. He considered asking on the anniversary of the day they met, but that day was an anniversary on its own. And that day belonged to more than just the two of them. Too many lives changed that day. 

The anniversary of the day they met came and went. To honor the day, Cas shut them inside of the bathroom and lit what he called “a commemorative joint.” They were a little overzealous and Dean ended up not going to work the next day. 

The ring stayed hidden away in Sam’s room. When didn’t really matter. He knew where he wanted to ask. They’d been together for over a year. All of Dean’s criteria had been met. Sam kept telling him to “just pick a fucking day already.” 

“What if I pick a shitty date?” asked Dean. He was pacing in Sam’s room fidgeting with the ring box. Sam was sitting on his bed watching him. “Wait, do people celebrate engagement anniversaries or just weddings?”

“Oh my God,” muttered Sam. “Just ask him.”

“I’m working on it,” snapped Dean. 

“Do it tomorrow,” said Sam. “It’s Friday. I’ll be home for the weekend. Anna’s not busy. Bobby’s free after five. You can take him down to the lake, propose, then come back here to celebrate with us.” 

“I can’t just do it tomorrow,” said Dean. 

“Why?” 

“It’s not right.” 

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Just do it,” said Sam. “What are you waiting for?”

“I don’t know,” muttered Dean. “I want it to be perfect.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s going to be perfect whenever it happens. Just ask him already.” 

Dean chewed on his lip and opened the box. The ring glittered in the light. He’d only taken it out once. His hands shook so much he was too afraid to take it out again.

“If you don’t ask him, he’ll probably ask you,” said Sam. 

“He’s too busy to plan anything,” said Dean. Cas was closing in on getting his license back. He needed colleagues to vouch for his ability. He needed two more people to speak on his behalf and those people were proving difficult to find. Cas said he’d burned too many bridges. Dean told him to keep trying. 

“He’s pretty sneaky though,” said Sam, “and he’d love to surprise you.” 

“That’s true,” muttered Dean. “Has he said anything?” 

“Not yet,” answered Sam. “But I feel like it’s going to come up.”

Dean shut the box.

“Just do it tomorrow,” said Sam.

“Tomorrow is too random. Isn’t the day supposed to mean something?”

“It’ll mean something after you nut up and ask him to marry you, you moron,” said Sam. 

He clutched the box in his hand. “That’s true,” he muttered. “What time tomorrow? Sunset? That’s romantic, right?” 

Sam nodded.

“Ok,” said Dean slowly. “Tomorrow.” He looked toward his little brother. “Holy shit. I’m getting engaged tomorrow.” 

“Finally.” 

* * *

Dean didn’t have a good excuse to go to the lake. He didn’t have an excuse to dress for the occasion either. Luckily, Cas suggested a date night. Dean tried not to seem too eager to take advantage of the coincidence. He dug through his closet and found clothes that were nice, but not too nice, then got dress and went downstairs. 

Cas had a head start. Dean had to scrub off oil and grease before he could change clothes. Cas was already dressed and waiting for him. A piece of blue fabric was sticking out of his pocket. 

“What’s that?” asked Dean. 

Cas flinched. “Wha—nothing—what’s what?” He quickly crammed his hands in his pockets. 

“Wow,” said Dean. “That wasn’t suspicious at all.” 

Cas’ face flushed bright pink.

“You had something blue hanging out of your pocket,” said Dean. 

“Oh,” mumbled Cas. He removed his hand and held up the fabric. It turned out to be a tie. “I couldn’t get it right. It seemed excessive.”

Dean felt a chill run down his spine. Cas knew. Of course he knew. Dean wasn’t sure what he did to give himself away but clearly the surprise wasn’t a surprise any more. He stepped forward and took the tie from Cas’ hand. He looped the fabric around the other man’s neck and took his time finishing the knot.

“You know I love you in this color,” said Dean. 

“Yeah,” said Cas quietly. His eyes were fixed on Dean’s face and his heart was pounding beneath Dean’s fingers. He was doing his best to maintain his poker face. Unfortunately for Cas, maintaining his poker face was usually his biggest tell. 

“I think it looks good,” said Dean. “It’s not excessive.” He gave Cas a quick peck on the lips then took his hand and led him out to the Impala. He knew better than to tease, but sometimes Cas was a very tempting target. If the secret was already out, he might as well have some fun. 

He stopped beside the passenger side door. Instead of opening it, he knelt. He looked down for a second then looked up. 

Cas was watching him, wide-eyed with his hands by his side as if he preparing for a quick draw. 

“Thought the tire was flat,” said Dean, biting back a grin. He stood and brushed the dirt from his knee. “We’re good. Are you all right? You look a little pale.” 

Cas nodded slowly. “I’m fine,” he answered. His lips twitched ever so slightly.

Payback was coming. Dean probably deserved it. They got into the car and Dean pulled out of the driveway. “You know,” he said. “It’s a clear night. It might be nice to watch the sunset.” 

“Instead of a movie?” asked Cas.

“Yeah,” answered Dean. He knew Cas was going to be suspicious as soon as he suggested the lake, but Cas already seemed to know. He had nothing to lose. 

“I’d like that,” said Cas. “Maybe we could watch it from the lake.” 

Dean glanced over at him. “Yeah, I was going to say the same thing.”

“How convenient.” Cas wasn’t even trying to mask his grin anymore.

It took Dean a moment to put the pieces together. He remembered what Sam said last night about Cas popping the question first. “Do you have something planned for the lake too?” he asked. 

“Do you want to know or do you want to be surprised?” asked Cas. 

“That’s a yes,” said Dean. “By any chance, were Sam and Anna ‘helping’ you, too?”

“They were,” confirmed Cas. 

“Bet they’re waiting for us at the lake.”

“I’m almost certain.”

Dean sighed. “And here I was thinking I was being clever.”

“They played us.” 

“No shit.” He glanced at Cas, his voice suddenly stuck in the back of his throat. “Do you still want to go through with it?” 

“Of course,” answered Cas. “Do you?” 

“Yeah,” he answered quickly. 

“Even if it means dealing with my nosy sister?” 

Dean laughed. “I see your nosy sister and raise you an annoying brother.” He pulled the Impala to the side of the road and put the car in park. 

Cas tilted his head in that owlish way that had become so familiar.

Dean pulled the ring box from his pocket. The day didn’t need to be perfect, the moment just needed to be theirs. “Will you marry me, Cas?”

“Of course,” he answered, pulling a box from his pocket as well. “Will you marry me, Dean?”

“You bet your ass I will.” He grabbed Cas by his tie and kissed him. 

They exchanged boxes and laughed when they opened them. Their respective rings were almost identical. Cas' ring was the sapphire with the emeralds on the sides. Dean's ring had a large center emerald with sapphires on the sides.

Dean frowned when he tried to slip the ring on his finger. “It’s a little snug.” 

“Funny,” said Cas, “mine is a little large.” He frowned at the ring for a moment. “Oh,” he said. “We should trade.” 

“Why?” 

Cas took the emerald ring from Dean’s hand and slipped it onto his own finger. He slid the sapphire ring onto Dean’s finger. “I believe our siblings meddled with the rings as well.”

“God dammit,” muttered Dean. “I should have paid more attention at the store.” 

“I thought it was a bit suspicious when they led me to this ring,” said Cas. “Anna doesn’t go jewelry shopping. I should have known she didn’t ‘just happen to notice’ it.” 

“Those fuckers.”

“They know us too well.”

“Maybe the jeweler made a mistake.” 

Cas raised an eyebrow. “Some how I feel like this was deliberate. I’m sure Sam and Anna will confirm as much once we get to the lake.” He took the rings back and returned them to their boxes. “We need to remember to act surprised.” 

“I suddenly regret buying a house so close to family,” muttered Dean. “I wonder if Bobby’s at the lake, too.” 

“I bet he is,” said Cas. He kissed Dean’s cheek. “I want to see you through many more seasons.” 

Dean pulled Cas across the seat and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Here’s to our secret road-side engagement – unless you think we should tell them.”

“No,” said Cas. “They worked so hard. This can be our secret.”

“Then here’s to secrets,” said Dean. He laughed. “Our first secret.”

“Of all the things that _could_ have been secret, I’m glad it’s this,” said Cas. 

“Me too.” Dean eyed him and frowned. “We’re about ten minutes away from the lake. You think you can become a better liar in ten minutes?” 

“Potentially.” 

“Let me see your poker face again.” 

Cas scowled and pressed his lips into a tight line. 

“It’s like you’re getting worse,” said Dean. “You’re not mad at the secret, you’re just hiding it.”

If anything Cas scowled harder.

“Annnd that’s why we don’t have secrets,” said Dean. "Maybe just be quiet and look pretty." 

“They might be too excited to notice anything is amiss,” said Cas. “Then again, it wouldn’t us if we didn’t show up with some explaining to do.” 

Dean kissed his cheek. “I guess that’s true. You ready?”

Cas grinned. “I’m all in.”


	39. Timestamp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got high and wrote a timestamp. Bless these bbys
> 
>  
> 
> Also I wrote a book...A real one...with a cover and everything. If you like my crappy writing here, you might like my crappy writing in the book. You can check it out here: 
> 
> https://amazon.com/Patron-Saint-Flame-Alyssa-Rabil-ebook/dp/B07DTC6WKC/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1532409637&sr=8-2&keywords=the+patron+saint+of+flame

 Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket. 

“Ten bucks says it’s Cas,” said Sam. He was struggling with his tie in front of the mirror. 

Dean smacked his hands away and took over for him. “Yeah right. That asshole has been cool as a cucumber through this whole mess.” 

“Bet he’s freaking out at the last minute.” 

“Gee, thanks,” said Dean. He straightened Sam’s jacket. 

“No freaking out about being stuck with you, freaking out because that’s what people do at weddings.” 

His phone buzzed again. Dean rolled his eyes. Mercifully neither of them fit the bill for a bridezilla. Cas was fussy about the guests and the venue, but nothing really fazed him. Dean may or may not have freaked out a little when he thought the caterer had the wrong date, and he may or may not have made a big deal about the flowers, but that was only because he wanted their day to be perfect. 

If anyone was wedding-monster, it was Bobby. Anna handled the money and Bobby handled everything else. At the first sign of trouble, Bobby was on the phone setting people straight with “Now listen here, boy.” They didn’t need a wedding planner. Between Bobby and Rufus they had everything covered. They were getting married on Dean’s parcel of land and holding the reception at Bobby’s. It was a beautiful, clear day with warm weather and a light breeze. Dean couldn’t have asked for anything better. 

Dean reached in his pocket and retrieved his phone. “Hey baby,” he answered.

“You owe me ten bucks,” hissed Sam.

Dean swatted at him. “What’s up?” 

“Kill me,” answered Cas. “Kill me now. Where are you?” 

“I’m in Sam’s room. What’s wrong?” 

“I’m coming upstairs. Shoot me and put me out of my misery.” 

“That’s not funny,” said Dean. He heard footsteps outside and a knock at the door. “We’re not supposed to see each other.” 

Cas had already hung up. He opened the door with a hand over his eyes. “Michael is here,” he said. 

Sam glared. “Not for long.” 

Dean grabbed him before he could get away. “Easy Hulk. Let’s hear the story first.”

“That’s it,” said Cas. “That’s the story. He’s here.”

Dean crossed the room and pulled Cas’ hand away from his face. 

Cas’ eyes were squeezed shut. “I thought you didn’t want us to see each other.” 

“I think we can make an exception for family-related breakdowns.” 

Cas’ eyes snapped open. “I’m not having a breakdown.” 

Dean took Cas’ hands in his and kissed his knuckles. “I love you, but yeah, you are. Does anyone else know he’s here?”

“Anna knows.” 

“I’ll tell Bobby,” said Sam. 

“You can tell him, but don’t intervene,” said Dean. 

Sam hurried passed them. 

“I mean it, Sam. Behave!” Dean sighed. He looked back at Cas. 

His eyes were red and he had a deep scowl on his face. 

Dean kissed him.

“I don’t know why I’m upset,” he said.

“Because sometimes family sucks.” He kissed him again. “Come on. Let’s sneak out the back way and get some air.” 

Cas nodded. 

Dean led him down the hall to a window. He shoved it open and checked to make sure no one was watching. “I haven’t done this since I was a kid,” he said. He crawled through and snuck out onto the ledge. He held out his hand for Cas. 

“Where are we going?” 

“The roof,” answered Dean. “We’ll be able to see everyone but they won’t see us.” 

Cas let Dean lead him through the window, across the tiles and to a shaded spot by the chimney. They crouched beside each other, Dean with his arm around Cas’ shoulders. 

Cas rubbed his eyes. “There,” he said, pointing.

Dean squinted and saw Michael talking to Anna, Bobby, Rufus and now Sam. They were standing in the designated parking area. The four surrounded him, striking various accusatory positions. Michael had his hands up. It was clear he was surrendering.

Cas ran a hand over his face and slumped against Dean. 

“He’s not getting past that group without a good explanation,” said Dean.

Anna pointed back to the house and said something to Sam. He nodded and headed back to Bobby’s house. 

“Retreat,” whispered Dean. Again he tugged Cas behind him as they made their way back to Sam’s room.

Sam entered a minute behind them. “He’s willing to leave,” said Sam. “He says he’s here to apologize, not to ruin your day.” 

“He ruined my day by showing up,” muttered Cas.

“Tell him to get lost,” said Dean. 

“No,” groaned Cas. “I’ll talk to him. I have to be the bigger person.” 

“You can be a small, grumpy person if you want,” said Dean.

Cas sighed again. “I’m sorry I bothered you with this. Especially since I’m going to end up talking to him anyway.” He tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling. “Ugh. Kill me.”

“Stop saying that.” Dean took Cas’ face in his hands and kissed him. “Let’s go together. He owes both of us an apology.” 

“But this shit show is _my_ shit show.” 

“We share shit shows now,” said Dean. He led him downstairs and out to where a flustered Michael was waiting.

Michael had his arms over his chest and when he saw Castiel he huffed. “Finally,” he said. “I had to go through an entire family to get to you.” 

“What do you want?” asked Dean. 

“Oh good,” said Michael. “I was worried I wouldn’t get to talk to you.” He rolled his eyes. “Castiel, can we speak somewhere privately?”

“No,” answered Cas flatly.

Michael wrinkled his nose. He looked like he wanted to say one more thing, unleash one more jab, but then he deflated. “I want to apologize,” he said at last.

“For what specifically?” asked Cas. 

“A lot of things,” answered Michael. “But mostly for not being your brother when you needed me most.”

Cas squeezed Dean’s hand. He blinked slowly. 

“And for not allowing your boyfr—husband to see you when you were injured.”

Cas nodded. 

“I know it’s not much, but it’s a beginning. We have a long way to go,” said Michael, “but if you’ll let me, I’d like to try to set things right.” 

“Of course,” said Cas quietly. 

Michael fidgeted with his jacket. “I would very much like to stay to witness your wedding.” 

Cas nodded again. “I’d like that too,” he said. 

Michael turned to Dean. “May I?” he asked. 

“If Cas says it’s ok, it’s ok,” he answered. 

The ceremony was short and simple. Neither of them wrote vows. Dean was too shy to say everything he felt anyway. He started crying the moment he put a foot down the aisle. Cas wasn’t in any better shape. They blubbered their way through the ceremony, declared “I do” and exchanged rings. Dean kissed Cas fiercely, in front of everyone, then lifted Cas a few inches off of the ground and spun him in a circle.

The guests were clapping but the noise was muted by the sound of Cas whispering “I love you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Also I'm on tumbler now...username humandumpsterfire


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